The Bestial Baratheon (ASOIAF)
by ItsYaBoitheDegenerate
Summary: The Second-born prince of the Seven Kingdoms is on a quest; to breed the women of Westeros, nobles and lowborn alike. Absolute smut. Will include Breeding (impregnation Fetish), Incest, Cuckquean, NTR, Rape, Domination, and a constant, underlying theme of Misogyny. Runs on porn logic.
1. Cersei Baratheon

**This is a story I wrote some time ago in my free time, and thought "fuck it, let others enjoy it" and posted it on Hentai Foundry. I found out some dope posted it on Fanfic without letting me know so I reported him, and his account and stories got taken down. Didn't sit right that people couldn't enjoy some of these delicious ideas I put on paper(screen?) so here I am, uploading it on my first fanfic account.**

**Don't expect regular updates AT ALL. I only write when I feel like it, and my ideas aren't numerous. It's just some fun stories I wanted to put up.**

**Be warned: this is not for everyone. There is some messed up things in this story, but make no mistake, it's only purpose is to bring joy in the form of erotica to people. Any sexist and/or cruel sentiment expressed is not one that I share. They're all meant to be exceptionally naughty elements in an erotic story, and thus are nothing more than a fantasy.**

**IT IS NOTHING MORE THAN A FANTASY. Remember that. It runs on porn logic, so telling me that women don't like it when you confidently swagger up to them and sexually harass them, or that dicks don't grow 20 meters long (this is a hyperbole, don't worry, no one has a 20 meter long dong), you're telling me the sun is hot. No shit.**

**If you're disturbed, disgusted, or otherwise averse to the expressed elements of the story, then congratulations, we're alike in that regard, but also unlike, in that I can find arousal in the idea and fantasy of it and you can't, and that's okay. Just like how I can't find arousal in looking at feet but maybe you can.**

**If you unironically agree with the misogyny, (any potential future themes of) misandry, or brutal criminality in this story, then you should seek help, seriously.**

**However, if you're just satisfying a(n idiotically) taboo desire (no fetish should be taboo as long as it's in privacy and in consent), then you've come to the right place.**

**Bottom line: Don't be an asshole. That includes being an actual misogynyst or misandrist or otherwise included-in-the-story asshole. This includes kinkshaming people who enjoy these kinds of stories, so take that mess somewhere else.**

**Now, onto the chapter tags: MILD-NTR, INCEST, BREEDING, DOMINATION.**

**Please review, I'd love to hear your opinions and actual criticism. Just remember the bottom line.**

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Lyonel Baratheon had been "lucky" when his crown-prince brother Joffrey had been assassinated and Lyonel was left king after his father died in a hunting "accident" (he knew for a fact his mother Cersei had a hand in it, but didn't mind one bit). Of course, the quotation marks around lucky should raise eyebrows.

After Joffrey had taken his fist to Tommen one too many times in his flights of rage, Lyonel had enough, and resolved to never let his cunt of an elder brother hurt his beautiful and kind younger siblings ever again. So when Joffrey opened the door to the privy, Lyonel waited there and shoved a knife into his neck before leaving as quickly as he got there.

No one, not even the Spider or Littlefinger, had a clue as to who did it. The cause for it was the secret tunnels beneath the Red Keep he explored as a child, and while he had no doubt they knew of its existence, they didn't have any spies fucking about in there.

But he was a child no more. No, Lyonel had the strength unrivaled by even his own father, Robert Baratheon during his prime, and he was but the age of nine-and-ten. His body was sculpted well, as many maids whispered when they thought themselves to be out of earshot, and his skill with blade could only be bested by his uncle Jaime and Ser Barristan.

No, Lyonel was already the visage of a king in both face, body, and bearing.

Like his father had been in his youth, Lyonel was clean-shaven to reveal his young and handsome face with strength in his eyes. Lyonel Baratheon was a kingly man even before he first entered a woman at the age of six-and-ten; a mature maid he bred with a bastard, though he made sure the woman knew not to tell anyone it was his, but rather King Robert's should anyone ask. Despite inheriting his Baratheon father's sexual drive, he was more lion that stag. He was the apex predator, not the running prey.

For someone who was so kingly, it had taken time before the title and position was given to him. But he was a true beast, a savage and brutal and ruthless fighter, and dominating of any who dared partake in his bed. Any woman who entered with delusions of control were left fucked-unconscious on his bed as a sweaty mess with their wombs filled to the brim with steaming cum.

His muscular stature and animalistic behaviour intimidated them enough, but mentality could be overcome. They needed but find courage and sense to move past the instincts that screamed at them to submit to the apex lion, the head of the pride, that loomed over their bodies, and realize they could take control back. But what they couldn't do was fight the force of nature, the storm, that was the physical obstacle.

Their hands would run over his godly-muscled body and realize to push against it would be pushing against the waves of the sea. And his cock would drive them silly with pleasure and pain before long, its size and his technique working in union to drive their brains into the state of a submissive bitch in heat being bred by a more-than-worthy mate.

However, the challenges were but maids and whores and lowly knight's wives, and their resistance were as impressive and resilient as a mice's roar. All were given a black-haired and blue-eyed child and nursed them on their big teats.

There's something to seeing your child tugging and chewing and drinking from the full breasts of women you've dominated. It often led to him pulling them into his room and taking them from behind standing as the child was still suckling on their tits, too mad with arousal to care.

Despite all of it, he'd never taken a high born before. And as fun as it was to have your cock sucked by a knight's wife while he boasted of his accomplishments, the thought of going higher in the hierarchy was never really considered before Jon Arryn died and his father ordered a royal party to the North to make Eddard Stark Hand of the King.

It was the best choice Robert Baratheon had done in his entire reign of shite. At least for Lyonel.

The Starks had taken him in and treated him like one of their own years ago, when he was taken as a ward. Eddard tried to teach him honor, but it was not in his nature. Lyonel feigned any mercy and honor he had to gain favour, and it worked. But he still appreciated that they'd given him shelter and food and protection, as well as influence by default of his association, considering they were one of the greatest houses in Westeros, being the Wardens of the North and all that.

But still, they were good people, and their influence was not all. Eddard was probably one of the best men Lyonel's ever met with a strong moral compass and sense of honor. Robb was as honorable and kindhearted as his father and one of his best friends, and Jon Snow was alike despite his bastardy.

Fuck Theon Greyjoy, though.

The thing about being so honorable and kind and trustworthy is you're most likely going to be gullible too. And gods, were they.

Sansa was naive to the point idiocy almost, but she was timid and shy, and cute too.

By the time he returned North years after his time in Winterfell, she was twenty years of age and took after her mother in terms of body; although her breasts hadn't filled out as fully, they were still big and impressive, and her mother's hips began to show. She'd taken a crush to Lyonel, and he knew he was going to fuck her some day.

Arya had smaller breast, though firm, but she too took after her mother. Her hips grew out nicely, and her ass grew fat enough to more than fill his hands. Her training she'd started since she was 14 alongside him when he was a ward left her at the age of 18 with nice full legs, toned body and filled out just right.

She'd fallen for him too, and she was too kind and badass not to love. She had a temper, but wouldn't lose it over stupid shit, and she was loving. Unlike her older sister, she wouldn't look away whenever they met eyes and he smiled. She'd be just as shy, make no mistake, but she wouldn't look away.

Instead Arya would glance at him timidly with a shy smile tugging at her lips. If he ever sat close to her, she'd fidget and steal glances so indiscreet, and yet she was unaware of it. If she ever accomplished something of note or beat a guard down in the yard during sword practice, she'd turn to him first beaming with pride.

She loved him, and he knew it.

She'd be a joy to cuckquean. He'd dominate her until she'd love him and his cock too much to ever consider leaving him, first. But he would, and Lyonel could already imagine her sitting on his bed as he took Sansa before her, bouncing her sister on his bucking hips, too shocked and mortified to do a thing but obey. He'd suddenly pull her by the arm and throw her on her back on his sheets, throw Sansa over her and fuck her sister right above her. He would do this whilst proclaiming his love for Sansa above Arya Horseface.

It wouldn't be true; truth is, Arya grew sharper features as her aunt Lyanna. She was beautiful, more beautiful than Sansa without doubt. And she had better hips and legs and ass, and whilst her breasts weren't as big as the other females in her family they were still firm and beautiful. Oddly enough, he took to her hair very much, as well. It was cut short yet framed her beautiful face perfectly.

But anything to humiliate the undeserving girl, and let her know no matter how much wolf's blood she had in her, she was a bitch to bend over regardless.

'Yes,' Lyonel thought to himself when he was astride in the courtyard during their arrival in Winterfell, and saw her smiling at him, 'I'll marry her and love her, only to humiliate her.' The love wouldn't be false, and he would make sure she knew that, but he would also assure her he was her master, and could do anything he wished, and she would obey always.

All things in good time, however. He only just arrived today.

The best of the Stark women's trinity had to be Lady Catelyn. Eddard's wife was a beautiful and mature beauty, and not to mention red-headed! There was no hair he favoured better. And although her beauty, namely her face, hips, and ass, were outdone by Arya, there was a mature allure that beckoned the apex beast within.

Her firm-but-huge tits were full and milky, and her hips and ass was the progenitor of her daughters', so hers was nothing to scoff at. Curvaceous mounds of assflesh bulging out and ending at her just-as-voluptuous hips, and she had full legs perfect for warming your waist during a cold and harsh winter.

That is what Lyonel was hoping to see soon, as he opened the door to his temporary bed-chambers in the North.

Too bad he wasn't greeted by Lady Catelyn, but his own queen mother. But Catelyn's time would come.

"Mother," he greeted, and stepped aside to let her in. He closed the door behind her and sat on his bed, taking the cup of Arbor Gold in his hand and drinking from it.

It was late at night, and the dark sky would have been seen from outside had he not closed the shutters. "Lyonel."

"A cold greeting? Truly, mother?" He sighed at her cold-but-feigned glare, "You're not as good an actor as you seem to think. Besides, no one's watching, least of all Joffrey. No need to coddle the little shit when he's not here."

She would always take the blond cunt's side in arguments, but Lyonel knew better, deep down. And she knew that he knew.

"He's your brother." she said quietly as her angry facade slipped away and his mother came forth. "You shouldn't talk of him that way."

"Why not? He is a little shit, you know."

"That's enough, Lyonel! He is your brother!"

He shrugged his muscled shoulders carelessly, "Didn't seem to deter him when I was a helpless little boy for him to bully."

She looked down in shame, and knew she was partly to blame. It was perhaps one of the reasons she allowed him to do this, but it wasn't why she continued. "He's still your brother. And you're both my sons - AH!"

The yelp came suddenly as Lyonel's hand flew to strike across her asscheeks, her head snapping up to look at him with wide eyes in open-mouthed shock. His hand gripped her left cheek and mauled it as Cersei began to moan erratically and pushing herself against him, muffling her noises into his chest.

He smiled down at her, "But I am the son. I'm all you ever need. I'm the cock that fucks you, the lion that breeds you, the cum that fills your womb, the husband to love you and nurture you on my cock. I'm more to you than uncle Jaime, father, or Joffrey, ever was or will be. Aren't I."

Both of his hands gripped her big royal butt and mauled the assflesh like dough, bulging out between his fingers, and he took care not to bruise it. He drew numerous and erratic moans and whimpers from her as her legs buckled beneath her. She grinded her hips against the cock that wasn't inside her, and her wetness poured from her cunt and glistened her warm thighs.

"Aren't I?" he growled, grinning animalistically as he roughened his treatment of her butt and forced her to look up at him. Lyonel saw the lust and love and worship in her eyes, coupled with fear and awe, and a look all broodmares he took had in their eyes that betokened their subservience to him.

His trousers felt snug as he hardened.

"Yes!" Cersei exclaimed desperately.

"Yes, what?"

"You're my everything, Lyonel!"

"Do you love me better than Joffrey?"

She shook her head, "Please, don't make me say it. It's cruel."

His grip tightened and the molestation of her ass grew almost violent as he ruthlessly dominated her, "Do you love me better than Joffrey?"

She bit her lips and tried to resist, but the inevitable and instinctual love and subservience for him won over all else, and she nodded meekly past the pain and pleasure. "Yes… Yes, I love you more than Joffrey, the blond cunt."

He grinned and threw her on his bed.

Cersei bounced with a gasp of surprise when she fell face-down on the feather bed, and ground her thighs together to stifle the wetness from between her legs from pooling too much on the bed and at her feet, but she felt the strong hands of her second-born son pry them apart with ease before settling behind her.

"How goes Joffrey's rise to the throne, mother? Has he trained in warfare? Sword-fighting? Strategising?"

Her breaths were loud and gasping with anticipation," H-he's not very enthused… about being forced to attend war lessons with your father - Ah!"

She yelped again when he tore her dress off at the back with a shred, exposing her back and arse fully. Lyonel tested her drenched cunt with one finger and clamped his other hand down on her asscheek to jiggle it. "You didn't wear undergarments. Unusual."

"I… I knew you needed relief, lest you decide to take one of Lord Stark's d-daughters." 'Or wife,' he thought, but stayed quiet. "It would complicate things too much."

"You sure it's not because of the dry streak I forced on you?"

She stayed quiet for a while. "I said I was sorry. I meant it."

"I know. I just haven't forgiven you." She took Joffrey's side as she always did, and this time was nothing special, he just wanted to make her suffer for his own amusement. He relieved himself with a maid he impregnate twice before, both times daughters, and brought her along for this whole journey north.

He put a baby in her again last week.

"And you tried to fuck my father and uncle to relieve yourself, didn't you?"

Smack! his hand came down.

"I-I did."

"But it wasn't enough, was it?"

Smack!

"Ah! N-no, no it wasn't." She shook her ass at him, "Please, Lyonel. Your mother needs this."

Smack!

"Ah!"

"My mother? I don't fuck my mother, I fuck my broodmare. Are you my mother, Cersei Baratheon?"

She was silent, and he slapped her ass again, Smack! and a red handmark showed on the flesh of her jiggling derriere. "Ah! No! No! I'm your broodmare, Lyonel!"

"I wonder, whose cock do you love most?"

Smack!

"Y-yours, Lyonel! I love your cock!"

"Do you love it more than your husband's?"

Smack!

"I love it more than my husband's!"

"Are you my broodmare?"

Smack!

She panted like an animal, and her cunt-lips quivered, "Yes!"

He pulled his fingers from her cunt, and the drenched digits were connected to it by strings that severed when he smeared his fingers across the inward dip of her spine. "Then it's time I finally breed you."

"Wh-what?" was all she managed before he stuck his fingers into her mouth and muffled her cries of protest as she realized his intentions.

His girthy cock was already lined at her entrance, and he buried into her to the hilt, and laughed when her body trembled under him with an orgasm ripping through her, her cries of mind-numbing pleasure muffled by his fingers feeding her own cunt-juice to her.

He gave her no reprieve and thrust rapidly into her, bed creaking beneath his assault on his breeder-mother. She moaned and groaned as he pushed his fingers down on her tongue, and his cock pushed into her cervix time and time again. He raised his hand and brought it down on her cheek.

Smack!

She yelped, and he continued smacking her ass as his fingers slipped out of her mouth and gripped her hair in a blond tangle between his fingers, and like reins of a horse tugged everytime his strong hips met with her rippling buttocks, jerking her head backwards everytime he filled out into her.

"AH! Ah! Ah! Ah! Fuck! L-Lyonel, don't finish inside. I know what you said, but don't do it. We shouldn't. It's not safe."

His rapid pace quickened impossibly, and his hips' movement dazed her senses as she began to babble mindlessly in a desperate but careless plea, her caution to not have her perfect and virile son pump a baby into her womb a mere shadow of an afterthought, on the forefront of her mind the desire of a bitch to be bred by her son - the pinnacle of a lion's strength in a man's body - and have her womb swell with her child-and-grandchild. She wanted to dilute the Lannister bloodline by popping out a black-haired and blue-eyed son and raise it to be a beast like its father and breed others, or a black-haired and blue-eyed daughter to be raised with a lioness' fierceness and subservience to her father as her body filled out voluptuously, to be fucked and dominated by Lyonel as Cersei was, and to lay that daughter on her eighteenth name-day on top of Cersei, breasts cushioning her head, as her father pumped into her against her mother's body and filled her womb, continuing the incestuous cycle of breeding that would go on forever, never stopping.

Not a son wouldn't be let out into the world to cuckold lesser men and breed their wives, and not one of Lyonel's daughters wouldn't be raped into loving her father and becoming his broodmare as Cersei was.

This was Cersei's true desire, but still she babbled like a fool and feigned unwillingness to be bred as was her fate.

She was thankful Lyonel didn't care about her apparent wants and only fucked her harder.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to. Or maybe if you beg me not to impregnate you, I'll show mercy."

"No! Don't!"

"Don't, what?"

Her voice jerked with every tug of her hair, and everytime his cockhead struck her womb she lost more and more of her mind to him, "Please, don't breed me!"

"Beg."

"Don't breed me, I beg of you!"

"Say it again," he demanded.

"Don't breed me!"

"Again."

"Don't breed me!"

Suddenly, he let go of her hair before thrusting into her a final time with such force that she flew forward to the other end of the bed, and prompted her to whine when his cock left her canal empty and wet. "I'm not convinced," he grinned, grabbing onto her ankles and pulling her back to him to spin her on her back. He wound his arms beneath her back and pushed his muscled torso against her, her breasts squished against his chest and her flat belly flinching from the sudden heat emanating from his abs.

"I think you want to be bred, don't you?"

Dazed as she was, she could only shake her head meekly at the way his hips swayed and grinded, "D-don't… Don't... "

His eyebrow rose, "Don't…?"

"Breed me... "

"Breed you?" He laughed, "And I thought you didn't want to be bred."

Her emerald Lannister eyes widened in panic and she tried to plead, "N-no, that's not-"

"Oh, well. I can't refuse my broodmare, can I?"

"Lyonel, I demand you-!" Her pathetic attempt at control of the situation ended in failure when he plunged into her with a powerful thrust that shook the bed and forced a scream from her lungs, one he quickly silenced with a kiss, latching his lips onto hers and raping her mouth with his tongue.

Her muffled moans vibrated his mouth and her cunt's muscles worked to milk the cum from his cock, pulling at it repeatedly in unison with his pulling out and thrusting in, and she orgasmed then and there, gushing against him and slicking his cock and legs with her fluid. Up and down he went; up and down, and up and down, bouncing his pelvis off her ass, battering the very womb from which he gestalted and would gestalt his seed into for the rest of her worthless whore-mother's life.

He pulled away from her lips and a string of saliva connected his tongue to her mouth, and he said to her in a voice that brokered no argument, "Listen well, mother. My time will come soon, and I will be king. I will overthrow Joffrey, and you'll do nothing about it. I don't know when it will happen, but it will be before father drops dead. And you will be there suckling my cock as I plan it, and you will listen to every word I say, when I say it, and how I say it. Understood?"

Cersei had gone from a lioness to a brain-dead harlot with nary a thought other than bearing her son's children and being little more than his bed slave during his reign. She imagined herself kneeling under the table of the small council and nursing on his cock, emptying the viscous contents of his heavy and full nuts down her throat, and her belly was swollen with his daughters whom would grow up to be busty and voluptuous and beautiful, and whom she would raise to become his cum-toilets.

Smack!

Her lustful and depraved thoughts were interrupted suddenly when his hand smacked her face, and her head snapped to the side, and she awoke.

"Do you understand, I asked!"

"Y-yes!" she begged desperately.

"What did I say, whore?"

"I'll listen! I'll listen as you overthrow Joffrey!" She screamed out in climax again.

"Good. Swear me an oath, mother. Swear it as I fill your womb. Swear as I put a babe in you."

He stopped to brace his arms beside her head, and she took the time to wrap her legs around his waist. He began anew in pounding into her, and her noises of pleasure resounded.

"I swear I will listen as you plot to kill Joffrey! I'll suck your cock dry and praise you! I'll ride you the night it happens, and when we're at his funeral, I want you to fuck me as I look down on Joffrey's face!"

Lyonel slammed his lips into her and roared into her mouth as he reached his climax. His cock twitched in her womb with every rope, and she flinched involuntarily as every one struck her womb like small pinches, whimpering as she orgasmed a final time. His final shot proved too much for her body to hold in, and squirted out around his cock and landed on the ground and stained his pelvis. She felt the hot cum boil inside her, turning her brain into mush slowly, and when her virile son pulled out with a wet plop, his babybatter flowed out slowly from her twitching cunt, literally steaming.

Lyonel looked on in satisfaction as her entire body shook from the aftershock of her climaxes, and she soon fell unconscious.

He walked to the other side of the bed and lifted her head unceremoniously by her blonde hair to dry himself off. When he finished and her hair was white-stained, he pulled her unconscious body to the ground and wiped the cum and cunt-juices with what parts of her hair wasn't ruined already by his nut-brew.

By the end, he left her on the ground with nothing more than her ripped dress to keep her warm, and went to sleep on his bed.


	2. Catelyn Tully

**When imagining the characters, I see their appearance as a mixture of the best features from both the books' and TV show's world (so Catelyn Stark is a sexed up MILF), regarding both body and face. **

**There is already 2 complete chapters coming out withing the next 6 days. 2 more are in the writing as I speak, but god knows when they'll come out.**

**Chapter tags: NTR (cheating), Breeding, Domination, Rape.**

**Be sure to review!**

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Lyonel had woken up early, earlier than anyone else, and just around the same time as his mother stirred. He felt his cock harden as stone and pillared proudly to lift his sheets. He stretched out with a drawn out moan, only to hear another moan more feminine and far more exhausted than his beside him. He looked to the side of his bed and smiled as recollection hit him of last night.

The sight of his queen mother filled and stained with his pearly and waterless, near-gelatinous cum, proved to be a pretty effective reminder.

Cersei panicked despite the pain of her sore body from sleeping on his stone floor like some animal, and composed the strength to throw her ripped dress off herself and glare at him, berating him angrily for his brash actions, and generally acting like the bitchy whore of mother he's come to known for his entire childhood.

She hissed at him for threatening his older brother, for impregnating her, and for generally making her say the things she said, all whilst she blushed in utter shame and failed to hide it, acting like she wasn't the one who allowed herself to be fucked into submission, or the one who fantasized of the vile, depraved incestuous fantasies of birthing nubile daughters to grow up and be raped and bred into worshipping their father.

So with the unrelenting shame coursing through her almost as potently as his baby-batter coursed through her womb and eggs, of course he could understand that Cersei would act this way, all to hide her shame. And she acted this way prolifically…

Right up until he slapped her, bent her over the bed, and fucked the shit out of her again.

Lyonel filled her womb with his cum, and forced her to confirm her devotion to him fully, and loudly.

Even as he carried her to his room's personal bath he made her listen to the ideas he had of how he would get rid of Joffrey. He began with the usual of making sure he "disappears" or some "accident" occur to him. Even as he pulled her into the tub with him with warm water that reached above their chest when they sat, and laid her on his lap, her back on his broad and muscled chest, tweaking her nipples to draw pitiful whimpers from her along with whispers of mercy for Joffrey. He pinched her and laughed whenever she dared beg for that cunt's life.

It was when he pushed her and began to fuck her from behind, pounding her onto the edge and forcing her to brace herself above it, that he went into details, describing ways of murdering him personally with different weapons, sharp and blunt, or the ways he would have him killed, perhaps by making sure his cart fell off a cliff somewhere in the Stormlands or the like. All this was said while he watched her hide her head below the edge of the bath in shame of how it was not even her love for Lyonel was enough to make her willing to kill Joffrey, but his cock alone pushed her over that edge, and had her willing to listen how her second-born-but-superior son would kill her firstborn-but-pathetically-inferior one. She gave Joffrey's life away for her amazing and godly son's cock, and as much as she was ashamed she didn't regret it one bit as he pounded her jiggling ass from behind, the water stained with her gushing orgasm splashing and rippling from their movements.

The shame, and domineering nature of him talking about such things whilst battering her womb left her only more sensitive to his cock, every stroke along her walls lancing pleasure through her nerves as the textures of his shaft grazed and scrubbed them.

"No worries," he said, when she hid her face below the edge and left him with the sight of her blond mane matted to her taut back with water and her heart-shaped ass bouncing on his thick, massive cock, "I prefer this view of you anyway."

She nearly wept in shame at that, and he laughed at her pathetic noises before giving her a resounding _Smack!_ on her asscheek, driving her to climax again as her mouth opened to gasp in place of screams, the pleasure a blinding white light that shocked her to the point where she couldn't.

Despite the sociopathy, bordering psychopathy he displayed, he had no interest in doing most things he spoke. He was just as fond of the idea of killing Joffrey slowly as he was of the idea of killing him quickly, though he preferred the less complicated concept of the latter.

All of it was no more than a power play. The apex beast within him demanded dominance of this pretentious whore he's had to suffer through in his childhood, this blonde-haired cocksleeve that was no more than the holes and tits and ass and womb she possessed yet dared act as if more, and it chose the methods of the dominance cruelly according to Lyonel's wishes.

See, the beast that he was wasn't merely a bestial instinct when coupled with his taught, human mind; together they formed Lyonel, a bestial cunning and strength and ferocity and cruelty blended flawlessly with his human intelligence, charm, and occasional mercy. That mercy, however, was reserved for people more deserving than this bitch queen called Cersei Baratheon.

No. Cersei deserved cruel mind games. And they would become her life right up until she died, or lost all shame in even something as horrid as partaking in her firstborn son's murder for the sake of Lyonel.

He moved to leave her unconscious fucked-out body in the bathtub before having an idea, and shoving his cock deep into her throat to aim into her stomach, and relieving himself straight into her so not to stain her teeth or mouth.

"She is a toilet, nothing more," the beast-Lyonel said internally, but only a filthy animal leaves his toilet unclean. Lyonel was a king.

He sent his breeding-maid, the one he had gotten with child a third time last week, to bring Cersei a new dress and make sure no one saw her state, and he took a long, long suck of tits, her breast milk pouring out of her thrice-impregnated-mother's breasts, when she tried to walk past him into the room with the bathtub and his mother without acknowledging the role of her god-lover that he was. He bit down once and had his apology and plea for mercy, and he gave her that mercy for he deigned her deserving of it.

Lyonel left for the training yard after she kissed him lovingly and went about her given task, and he was satisfied. He began to train his marksmanship to mastery when he got to the yard.

He did so for hours until the morning sun finally rose, and the thumping of the arrows hitting bullseye constantly had gotten stuck in his mind, but he never relented.

The first to wake up and come to the yard had been Arya Stark, unsurprisingly.

She thought Lyonel couldn't see her, but he smelled her scent.

The scent of the mate, the voluptuous amazon-warrior beauty to become his one and only queen, but one he would conquer, humiliate, and tame regardless.

Men say you may break a wolf, or befriend a wolf, but you could never tame a wolf.

They didn't know Lyonel Baratheon.

As the arrows thumped bullseye, he thought of such cunning and deliciously cruel ideas he had, of cucking her, making her watch him fuck other women. Then came the ideas from Lyonel's humanity, not his bestial side, and of how he would fuck her hard and long, and make love to her, and breed her, and make her his bed-slave queen, wearing naught more than slave's chains in the bedchamber and whimpering ever so adorably as he plunged into her tight, warm, and young body, nubile like no other. An amazonian warrior-queen moaning for him like a virgin maiden, begging for him and calling his name.

When his quiver ran dry for the umpteenth time, she clapped, and he acted surprised to see her sitting on the wooden bleachers, though only for a short time to not appear out of character.

She was smiling at him, "Good job! Almost as good as me!"

He smiled back and she couldn't help but blush, though she kept her eyes on his. She stood and walked down the stairs, and Lyonel took this opportunity to admire her form.

By the gods, time had matured Arya well, he thought. He imagined pressing her up against the wall here and now to molest her firm-but-fat bubble butt through those riding leathers and grind his bulge against her clothed slit as he lifted her and she wraps her full and muscled legs around his waist.

Too bad Arya took him out of his delicious fantasy by clearing her throat, and he blinked to see her blushing furiously when he took his eyes off said legs. His gaze passed over her breast that were not definitely not small, but not as big as her mother or sister, and had a firmness and perkiness to them that more than made up for it.

He smiled again when he met her eyes, "High praise from you, Arya. It's good to see you again."

She was surprised when he suddenly hugged her, though as he expected, she took the chance immediately to wind her arms around her crush. "It's good to see you too. I've missed you."

"Likewise." Glancing unnoticeably down at her chest, he saw that she opened her cotton shirt's buttons just enough to show her cleavage to him, a twin mound of milky flesh begging to be mauled to bruising and have their nipples chewed.

His future queen knew already how to dress around him in public.

She would become his favorite toy…

But that would come later. He'd have Cersei whisper into Robert's ear and change their plan to betroth Sansa to Joffrey and have Arya given to Lyonel. Until then, he would be the Lyonel he always was, the Lyonel that they knew. He sat with her and caught up on missed times, and she never seemed as content as when she was talking to him, he realized.

Neither was she as horny. Of course, it wasn't only the fact that he looked the apex beast that he was in terms of body and manner, but also some intentional influence on his side. A shuffle closer there, an arm laid behind where she sat there, not to mention comments on how she grew up beautiful and strong, and intentionally indiscreet looks at her body. Lyonel was a master at this, and if he ever seemed obvious it's because he allowed it. He was however discreet with fleeting touches on her body, on what skin of hers was exposed.

He noticed when commenting on how short hair fit her whilst pushing her hair behind her ear that she rubbed her thighs together to hide the wetness.

Of course, the one thing she never lost was the look of utter love and worship in her eyes when she looked at him. He also pretended not to notice her inappropriate glances at him, though he did give her the tensing of muscle every once in a while.

The fun ended though when more and more people began to spill into the yard, and when the rest of the Stark children came, Arya moved only slightly further away from him. He greeted Robb and Jon cordially, and Sansa with a familiar kiss to the cheek. No one gave it a second glance but Arya, who gave it a glare directed at Sansa, but for the others he was family, and this was to them a brother kissing his sister. He messed Bran and Rickon's hair, and they all talked until Lyonel was summoned to his king father.

He arrived to find Lord Stark at his side, and in short, they announced that he would marry Arya after some reconsideration of Joffrey's… compatibility issues with others. Lyonel took the news well and returned to the yard.

That time there were only Robb and Jon left, and Lyonel joined them in training.

* * *

**Later that night**

Lyonel had been the life of the feast in Winterfell, being the first to slam his tankard and demand a song, and the first to stand and dance. His voice was the strongest and cheeriest, and his spirit the one that lifted everyone else's.

His frivolous drinking and daring attitude had won him the favor of his father, Robert, who was just as much a partygoer as he was, and because of this no one told him to calm down. In the end, he'd danced with all the Stark children, and even Lord and Lady Stark.

Lord Stark was as much a father to him as Robert, and Catelyn was more a mother than Cersei, though she still retained her subservience and respect to him as a prince. But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted her subservience in everything, the bedchambers above all.

So it had come as a shock to the Lady Catelyn that this boy she had raised to become a strapping and strong young man, that she was honored to have treated as her own son and fed and sheltered under her roof, was looking to fuck her as though she was some tavern wench.

All but the lady had been drinking, even Lord Stark, and Eddard, much less the rest of the hall, had failed to notice Lyonel's discreet and "accidental" touches to Lady Catelyn. Most times the tips of his fingers would stroke across her legs or amazing voluptuous ass, and every time he left a streak of fire across her skin underneath her dress. Catelyn's breath would quicken ever so slightly at the sensation, and her smile would widen unnoticeably at the fire left in the wake of his touch. It was a harmless touch, he was drunk and had lost some small measure of control over himself. There was nothing to it but clumsiness, no?

The dumb Tully whore hadn't gotten it through her gorgeous and red-haired head that he wanted to fuck her silly, and Lyonel realized he had to let her know, whether she wanted to or not. Once he flicked her clit, and she gave a small gasp at the mixed sensation of pleasure and realization, she knew what he was doing. His grin only made her avert her wide eyes to the ground, but he held her hands and continued to dance, though he passed off her unwillingness and shock as being tired, and instead danced with Lord Eddard.

He had Eddard "accidentally" trip, and the king roared out in laughter, "Again!"

Lyonel, being the good friend and son-figure he was, showed mercy and insisted he take Lord Stark to his chambers. "Come along, Lady Catelyn," he said.

Her eyes widened again, and she tried to come up with excuses, "I-I shouldn't… I'm not so tired yet-"

"And? Come now, your husband needs you, my lady." He grinned dangerously, "What would he do without you if he fell again?"

Her eyes turned fearful swiftly, and she soon realized there was no choice in this matter, and with a nod she followed them.

"You're a good lad, Lyonel," said Lord Stark along the way. "I'm proud as if you were my own son."

Lady Catelyn looked uncomfortable at that, and fidgeted with her hands whilst looking at them with concern. She nearly gasped when Lyonel winked at her, before turning back to Lord Stark.

"And I love you as if you were my own blood, my lord."

Eddard smiled and cupped the back of his head, "You would have made a great king. Know you always have the loyalty of the house of Stark, and our love."

"And you have mine," Lyonel smiled, and thought to himself, '_Though not like your wife and daughters will, soon enough._'

When Lady Catelyn carried her husband by locking arms and placed him on their bed, Lyonel called out, "Lady Stark, may I speak with you?"

"I should… I should stay with my husband. If he hurts himself again, I would stay here."

He nodded to a passed out Eddard on the bed, "He's not going anywhere, don't worry."

She stayed silent for a long moment before reluctantly walking over to him. The hallways were empty, and the door to their room was open, but still she felt trapped like a cornered animal.

She had no idea how right she was.

"M-my prince, what can I help you with?" Her eyes wandered to his hands, wondering if he would try anything. Still, she had doubts if she was right to be suspicious of him or simply had too much to drink and imagined it.

He smirked, eyes shining through the darkness, "Oh, I just wanted to speak with you."

"About?"

Catelyn suddenly gasped when, without a word, his hands shot out to clamp down on her delicious and huge milk-filled tits through the soft fabric of her dress, hardening her nipples as they rubbed against her skin. Her moans were cut short when he slammed his lips against hers and muffled her mouth before fondling and dominating her tongue with his own. Not once did he give her poor breasts reprieve, and as big as they were, they still held impossibly well and did not sag one bit, and yet the meat was soft as dough.

When he pulled his lips away to leave a string of saliva between their tongues, she shook herself out of her shocked trance and tried prying his hands off, "M-my prince! What are you doing?"

"Feeling these cowtits of yours!" he growled.

"What has gotten into!- Ah!" she yelped when he dug his fingers deeper into her soft flesh, "Please, Lyonel! This isn't you!"

Smack!

Her head snapped to the side and she gave a gasp before the shock silenced her. "You've always referred to me as your prince, even when you raised me, Cat." Hearing him say her name so familiarly only her closest called her, Eddard among them, tore at her willpower as much as her heart and made her feel her honor was being molested just as she was. "You will not stop now. The only difference will be, in the bedchambers you will call me master. Understood?"

Her beautiful mature face contorted with a scowl, and she tried to push him off forcefully, "Enough of this, Lyonel! Have you gone mad! I will take this matter to your father!"

All breath was knocked out of her when Lyonel suddenly charged into her like a rhino and pressed her up against the wall, not letting stop his lecherous abuse of her tits, "You will do as I say, when I say it, or your husband will find himself at an early end. Am I understood." Her blue eyes looked at his in disbelief and terror, before an involuntary moan left her full lips.

Just as he had done with his queen mother the night before, Lyonel tore at Catelyn's dress, specifically at her chest, and her amazing breasts bounced free before his face. She gasped and waited in suspense to see what he would do, before she suddenly found the willpower to say, "I will not stand for this, Lyonel!"

_Smack!_

Her head snapped to the right this time, and he gripped her cheeks to force her to face Eddard's sleeping form on their bed, "What did you call me."

"Enough," she repeated, this time more weakly than before as she lost the battle of wills and bodies.

He took a nipple in his mouth and his cheeks concaved as he began to take long and hard sucks, pulling the milk from her tits as his mouth worked like a vacuum. The sensation of being raped of her tit-cream was an undeniably humiliating experience for Catelyn Stark of Winterfell, Stark Matriarch and of the house of Tully, as she no longer had a say on what her body was doing. Her choice? She had none in the face of this vigorous assault. Not only had she been forced to feed the man who was molesting her against her will, she was forced to take pleasure from it, and she could do nothing to hide it. She had repressed her moans and groans too weakly for Lyonel not to notice, and the wooden floor of the castle around her feet began to soak in a pool of her juices as wetness trickled down her milky thighs and legs, a testament to her shameful lust.

Her mind was assaulted by the sensation and humiliation of the cruel treatment, and her huge breast was being pulled to pour milk from her now-puffy nipple into his vacuuming mouth, stretching the engorged tit into a conical shape, and Lyonel let his hands wander up her long skirt to fondle her ass. The soft assmeat was perfect and pliable in his hands, and he pulled her against his body. Catelyn was forced to brace her hands on his chest, and she couldn't help but notice past the assailed nerves almost overloading her brain with pain and pleasure the hardness of his muscles.

With a pop, he let her tit fall out of his mouth and trickle milk on the floor and her dress. He smacked his lips together, "Ah! Nothing quite like milk straight from the udders of the cow."

With only a gasp from Catelyn, Lyonel lifted her by her asscheeks alone, a painful feeling for her, before she wrapped her legs around him and he carried her all the way to his room. Everyone had been busy with the feast and what few there were couldn't tell what they were looking at or who as it was far too dark, and when she hid her face in his shoulder, desperate to avoid recognition, he smelled her red mane, before she pushed her breasts against him to hide them from sight and cold, flattening them against his chest. He mocked her when he felt them harden from the breeze.

Before he arrived in his room, a pair of drunk Stark guards saw them and laughed, one even shouting, "Fuck the bitch silly," unaware he just told a prince to fuck his liege lady. Catelyn buried her face into his shoulder squealing in shame when she heard that. When Lyonel arrived in his room he threw her on his bed; she bounced before clumsily sitting up and attempting to cow him with a glare and some stern words, scolding him and using his first name, as though it would have some effect on him.

Dumb Tully bitch.

He tore the remainder of her dress off completely and pulled her legs off the edge of the bed until her fat ass laid on the cold stone floor and her head was craned above the edge of the bed. He undid his trouser and let spring from its tight confinements his cock to slap down on Catelyn's face.

She flinched and instinctively opened her mouth to loll her tongue out before she caught herself, and he laughed at her disgrace. "Ned made you do this too, it seems. Maybe I'll thank him for training you to be my whore."

The mention of her husband's name alone was enough to humiliate her, but hearing him calling her lord-husband by his familiar name as he once called her by her own degraded her and filled her with guilt.

Lyonel sneered at her, "It's out of love and respect for Ned that I didn't decide to fuck you on his bed. Now," he paused. "Worship me, and I might decide to not fertilize your womb, brood-whore." He gripped his cock and smacked it down on her eye, making her flinch every time. "Fucking Tully whores, nothing but fishermen's wives to be taken by stronger men." Catelyn's lips parted and she looked to want to say something, but the words never came to her, because deep down she knew she was nothing more than a Tully slut to be bred and make sure the riverlanders' blood were upgraded by superior men, and to make sure her pathetic fisherman's heritage died out. Even her opened mouth turned from the purpose of speaking words of protest to the justified insult against her people, to cushioning his cock as he began slapping it on her beautiful full cock-pillows.

Aegon the Conqueror ruined the balance the Iron Islanders were merciful enough to grant the enslaved rivermen and women.

But Lyonel was here to bring back mercy to the pride of the Riverlands, their redheaded slut daughters that they would always send off to marry some lord and breed, and take them for himself, seed them with the babes of a beast superior to all other men.

He gave a shrug yet never left her blue eyes just as she never left his, even as he continued his smacking against her lips, the underside of his cock stickied with her saliva, "You were lucky to have Eddard. A true northman instead of the fishmongers from the Riverlands you redheaded sluts deserve. But I'm here to give you something even more. And you're not going to dare resist, because that's how the weak blood of Tully fish men have tainted your veins. Tainted with cowardice and obedience. Harren Hoare was in the right, he was merciful enough and decided to rape the ascendancy your people don't deserve into your slave women ancestors and cuckolded it into their fishmonger husbands' brains, but Aegon fucked it all up. Made you think you were worthy of existing for anything other than bearing children of greater men. I'm here to make it right, and breed you with my perfect children. Children you're going to raise and love, children you're going to value above your children with Ned. And you'll do this without a sound of defiance. Because it's in your whorish heritage of breeders to carry the children of superior creatures."

To Lyonel's utter satisfaction, he did not need to threaten her once. No indeed, as she stared into the dominant blue eyes of the apex specimen before her that so imperiously slapped his massive cock down on her wet full lips without protest, something within her mind snapped, its workings configuring to that of every other women whose veins ran with riverlander blood, Tully blood especially. She found a perfect excuse to become what even she didn't know she subconsciously wanted. Most women, even the riversluts didn't, and Lyonel was the one to help them realize it. What Catelyn wanted was to be driven into the ground, right down to her most carnal and basic animalistic level as the MILF she was, and be fucked by Lyonel, the exemplar of human male strength and virility, to be dominated by him and fucked behind her entire family's back, and to pass of the babes he pumps into her womb as Eddard's children.

This was natural, for her entire bimbo body was made to breed. Her tight cunt was made to milk Lyonel's herculean shaft, undulating her muscles to massage the pearly ball-batter from the entire length of his cock to shoot out and fill her womb. Her nearly-perfect ass accentuated by thick legs that were only second to Arya's were meant to cushion and bounce off his hips as she bucked against his thrusts that sunk his manhood into her baby-factory from behind, cheeks jiggling wildly like firm fat waves of flesh. Her legs were meant to wrap around his waist during winter to warm him as he pounded his cock into her until he blessed her with his seed and filled her to the brim, or to place her feet behind her head as she pulled her legs up to her body and be fucked that way if her master so wished. She was meant to be there as Lyonel woke to find himself parched with the redhead Tully breeder lying beside him with messy sheets pooling at her legs as her fucked-out cunt dripped like a waterfall with his steaming cum, and have her breasts suckled dry over and over again every morning to wet his throat and stave his hunger.

Her brood-whore instincts realized as his cock smacked down its supremacy on her lips and reverberated through her skull and into her brain that the two mounds of pale, perfect titflesh were destined to nourish his black-haired babies as she held one in each arm, kneeling at his feet with her cock-cushion lips stroking along his length to drench it in her saliva, red hair bouncing as she bobbed her head between his powerful thighs, and she would angle so he could see his babies that he blessed her with tugging at her hyper-sensitive nipples as her swollen tits poured milk into their drinking mouths.

But in her mind, all these inevitabilities hadn't occurred, she hadn't realized her fate, and so she worked for an excuse - she needed an excuse - to give into her fate. She had to do this to protect Ned and her family from a prince of the royal family, and she was willing to do so no matter what it takes, even to be taken and made a happy rape-cow to the apex beast that was…forcing himself upon her.

This is what she told herself.

But Lyonel saw through it all, and grinned as nature took its place in the world and things became as they were meant to be.

This was nothing more than the natural happening, taking hold.

"I'll, do, it," she said, unconsciously pausing to pout her lips and massage his cock as he patted against them. "To protect, Eddard."

"Do it?" She looked at him confused. "We're not doing a thing until you call me by my proper title and you take your place as fate had always intended."

"Please..." she begged, wide blue eyes still not breaking away from his, "Do, what you, will, with, me." She took a long pause this time, and not only to pout for him, "Master."

Without hesitance, he pulled his hips back fully and thrust his cockhead past her full lips, then slowly thrusting back and forth, stopping at a fourth of his length to poke his cock around in her mouth and cheeks. Her hands wandered down slowly, until he suddenly gripped her beautiful red mane and tugged at her hair painfully, "You will beg me for permission to touch yourself. And I haven't given permission."

Catelyn let out a pained whimper, yet her wide eyes showed nothing but an obsessive stare into his eyes, as if she didn't realize her body and mind and soul was being overtaken by him.

Suddenly, he braced his fists against the sides of her head and plunged forward into her throat, defiling the walls of her esophagus with his full length. He closed his eyes and groaned out in pleasure as Catelyn came all over the floor and screamed around his cock, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"You came already, didn't you? Not surprising for a fish whore." He smiled down at her before he pulled his hips back and thrust again. Once his entire shaft was spit-slick, he began to thrust wildly into her throat, Cat gurking and gagging as saliva frothed and gathered to slime out of her mouth and down her chin, dripping onto her tits and sliding down the valley to her taut stomach. She placed her hands on his muscled thighs as they smacked against her cheeks, and her eyes remained at the back of her head even as she her thoughts turned from human to a riverlander fish-whore.

This was her place her in the world. Family, duty, honor? She had a family, and she would abandon them for the superior man facefucking her and pop out a new family for him. Duty? Her duty was to her master, to nourish and suckle his children on her huge tits, just as she was to suckle and nurse on his cock as he sat on his iron throne, bobbing her head up and down between his legs and drinking his steaming warm cum as the only source of nutrition she was given. Honor? Serving her master was her honor. Bouncing her fat ass on his cock was honor.

Lyonel - Master, she reminded herself - was honoring her right now, raping her fisherman wife's throat and letting her cock-pillow lips do what they were meant to do and seal around his shaft to milk him.

All of this, her mind told her, and she tried to deny them, though she could only do so meekly, for deep down she knew it was true.

She stuck her tongue out past her sealed lips and rubbed against the underside of his cock to quickly bring him to his finish, yet the sensation of his cock scraping against her throat drove her twice more to orgasm before Lyonel finally buried himself to the hilt, her tongue rubbing against his massive, full balls, and replaced his hands to brace his knees against the sides of her head. He angled his cock directly down at her throat, and his hips blurred as he pounded down into her gullet almost violently, Catelyn spasming on the ground as she came yet again and felt her own cum pool mix with filth around her legs and asscheeks.

She pulled her hands out from between her cheeks and his thighs before her instincts took over and she gripped his ass to push down and force his thrusts.

Lyonel gave the Tully bitch no warning when he thrust down one final time and rested his twitching balls against her chin and tongue, her nose up against his abs to inhale his addictive scent, cock spasming to shoot ropes of his warm cum straight down her throat and into her stomach. Her swallowing did nothing to help drinking down his seed, but instead undulated to milk more and more of his dick, and Lyonel kneeled there on the bed, Catelyn Tully's head between his thighs and his cock resting in her throat as he unloaded into her, groaning as he did.

When his ropes finally died down after a minute, he pulled out slowly all while Catelyn began licking around the length completely and even bobbing back and forth when he stood up to clean his shaft fully with her mouth. He grabbed her beautiful red mane and took control, using her throat as his cocksleeve, and when he finished he pulled her up to her feet by her hair and threw her on his bed.

"For Ned," she told herself, and he laughed before slapping her, a _Smack!_ echoing in the room.

"For your master."

She shook her head quietly, "N-no..."

She had trouble coping and understanding what her mind was trying to tell her. She didn't understand yet that she was his.

Again, this is normal. It is up to Lyonel, as it always is, to show Catelyn Tully her place in the world; as his cow-slut, his bimbo rapedoll.

And so, despite her pathetic attempts at protest to fool herself into thinking she wasn't a rapeslut, she did nothing when he descended on her and settled himself between her legs, cock already hardened as fully as before. "Very well, then. When I fuck a babe into your womb, think of Eddard. I assure you, you'll find yourself screaming 'Master' regardless." He loomed over her and gripped her legs to place them at his hips.

"Y-you're not...OH GODS!"

Before she could attempt at a pathetic excuse for a retort in almost non-existent hopes of sparing her non-existent dignity and pride, her merciful master spared her from the embarrassment, despite the fact that she doesn't realize this mercy, by plunging into her womb.

She squirted immediately and covered his pelvis, cock, and balls in her woman's cum whilst gasping quietly, and Lyonel took the time of her shock to lean over hear and begin thrusting, giving her no chance to recover easily. Instead, Catelyn's cunt is filled and pounded by his cock as she struggles to come down from her last orgasm, but when she does she arrives to an assault of pleasure and pain only heightened by his abuse of her tits, as he took the right on in his mouth to suckle and chew, and mauled the other in his hand. She tries to deny it and says to herself she cannot control her body, but her mind wants this, in truth.

"Gods, your womb feels so warm and good," he said as he placed himself on top of her, steadying his arms beside her gorgeous mature face framed by her mane of red, and Lyonel pulled the ties out to spill her hair down and around her face as she lied on his bed, and he began to rape the understanding of her heritage's legacy into her womb as her ancestresses were once raped. "Just think of Eddard," he mocked, and her brows furrowed sadly and in shame and guilt, even as she could do nothing but moan.

She looked too beautiful at that moment, auburn hair flowing and face contorted with despair and guilty pleasure, and Lyonel couldn't help but to make out with her, her lips and mouth doing nothing to resist, and in fact began to participate in a spit-swapping exchange. Her throat vibrated with muffled moans and groans as he fucked her well, his girthy spear of a cock driving into her womb with every thrust, the tip of his cock piercing inside.

He moved his arms to brace by hers, pushing them against her body and forcing herself to push out her tits against him, and he stared into her eyes, dominating her's, blue as his own, and refusing to let her gaze go as this coupled with his tyrannical tongue induced submission in her, and she wrapped her thick legs around him. He parted lips with her to leave her breathless and red-faced. "This is what will become of you. I will make you mine. I will pump my babes into you and you will thank me for my kindness in raping you, if one could even call it that. It is a blessing you've taken to well, if your wet cunt and accepting womb is anything to go by. You'll thank me and cry out how grateful you are and how much better I am than your precious Ned. Only out of earshot, of course. I still have respect for the man unlike you, cheating bitch!" At his words, she couldn't help but feel guilt for going behind the back of a man she loved, a man who deserved better.

He let out a growl at the pleasure of his mighty length pulling out of her cunt and filling it over and over before he stopped for a moment, and to Catelyn's shame drew an unwilling whine from her, and positioning himself to fuck her in a mating press. Her cunt had been fucked slick by her own wetness being rubbed into her canal, and it was without effort that he emptied out and filled her with his meat.

She began screaming in pleasure as this young specimen, this apex beast that was so much younger than her husband and of a far more worthy stock than anyone she had ever met before, sunk his long, girthy cock into her and jiggled her fat ass, balls smacking against her derriere and his cock battering the top of her womb. She heard as men and women who passed by hollered and encouraged him, commenting things such as, "Show her a real man!", "Fuck her till she's dead!", "Quiet down, harlot, you'll wake the damn castle!", and, "Shag her brains out!" They all made her cum squealing.

Lyonel grinned and leaned down to her ear, "Hear that, fish-slut? Even the people outside know what your place is." He groaned, "Listen to my words, and listen well, whore. You are mine now. Your family? Eddard, Robb, Bran, Rickon? You will leave them. When the time comes, I'll take you for my breeder as I take my seat on the Iron Throne. You'll pop out my sons and daughters, and you will tend to my cock as I sit on the throne and listen to boring matters, and that is everything you'll do. It will become your life. I will take Sansa as a breeder as well, and I'll make Arya my queen. I'll make you watch as I impregnate both, and you'll be there to clean up the mess we leave behind with your tongue."

Catelyn orgasmed at hearing his words, and finally, the realization came to her, and Lyonel knew this when she slid her hands up across his muscled torso to grab onto his shoulders and stare into his eyes with worship, her lewd moans never stopping once. He leaned closer down to her face, and her eyes widened at the sheer power he exerted with no effort, as if looking at a god. "I'll take you away from Ned, but I'll give him my mother as a wife to fuck and breed. I've planned it all. He'll thank me when he realizes what I've given him. And your kin? I'll take Robb and Jon down to the Riverlands with an army at my back. You will be there, and invite me to Riverrun. You'll make sure all redheaded slutcows are there."

She said nothing, but they both knew that he was not asking, but telling her, and Lyonel knew she would do as he said, even as she simply moaned and whimpered whorishly.

"You'll prepare them for me, and the first night that I arrive, I want to see every Tully slut that's still alive in my bedchambers, ready to be bred. You'll watch as I leave every one fucked unconscious and dripping with my cum, and finally I'll fuck you."

She said - pleaded pathetically, really, "I… I can't… Please, don't make-"

He pulled his head back before spitting her in the mouth insultingly and watching her swallow it, "Of course you will, Tully bitch. You'll also watch as I have my army enslave the fishermen and take the women, over and over and over again. This will happen as I ride around to demonstrate the destiny of all Tullys and riverwomen by having you fucked pregnant repeatedly before their eyes, the daughter of the Riverlands down on all fours and having her fat ass taken from behind. And when finally your mens' will are broken and your women realize their place, they'll be taken back home to pop out our children. I'll give Robb the Riverlands, and Jon any title he wants. They'll be loyal to me, and all for breeding your women. Agh! Fucking harlot! I'm going to cum!"

He lurched forward to capture her lips in a kiss, and Catelyn's eyes closed as the pleasure overtook her and an image popped up in her head. She saw burning hamlets, and heard screaming women. Then she imagined women being taken by laughing soldiers right there in the mud or against the wall or bent over tables and windowsills, or even their tied-down husbands and fathers and brothers and sons, some rape-victims weeping though most moaning pleasurably, and in the middle of the muddy ground she was there, big tits swinging as she was taken by Lyonel and her fat ass jiggled from his pounding, and he pulled at her hair to raise her head, and she heightened her voice to announce that this was their women's fate, and how much easier and pleasurable it is to give in, and she moaned out to the skies her love of her master's cock, until he grabs her by her full thighs and pulls her down to plaster her cunt full.

During the thought she climaxed twice, both times clamping her pussy down on Lyonel's cock and squirting out her girlcum and soaking his bedding. He pulled back from their intense kiss to slap her lucid.

_Smack!_

"M-master!" was the first word she exclaimed, and she exclaimed it so naturally and instinctually, and he knew she had accepted her place. Her own eyes widened before she whimpered in shame and realization, though it was quickly replaced with pleasure again as he pounded her.

He told her, "I'm going to cum, whore! I'm going to give you my child. Thank me. Thank me for showing you your place."

Suddenly, she began to scream lewdly as his hips quickened and his cockhead hammered the full depth of her womb, emptying out into her with every thrust. "Thank you for showing me my place with you! Thank you, Master!"

"Now beg for my cum."

Her entire body jerked beneath him as she came again, her toned and taut stomach convulsing and her swaying tits flinching away as her nipples burned whenever they'd friction against his sweaty, boiling hot skin, "Please! Give your cum! Fill my womb with your cock-milk! I want your babe! Put a babe in me, please! I'll worship your children! I'll love them more than Ned's!"

The words drove him into a sexual, bestial frenzy, and he finally felt his release wound his arms underneath her back and lifted her, and Cat responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned into him, her red hair flowing down her back and adhering to the sweat on it, moaning frantically as suddenly his hips turned into blurs and he fucked his will and power into her, every ridge and bump of his ribbed cock scraping against her wall and shooting chronic slicing pleasure throughout her body, her nerves fully assaulted, raped, dominated, just as she was. "Take my seed, you cheating Tully bitch!" He tugged harshly at her hair to pull her head back and lock her lips with his own, and roared into her mouth as he fully hilted into her, his cock stopping inside her womb and spasming as he emptied the contents of his full balls into her, rope after rope shooting out to plaster her walls white and overflow her womb completely. Her cunt worked instinctually to milk him, and he pulled away from her lips to place her down on the bed, cock still inside her, before leaning down and suckling on her motherly tits and eliciting whimpers from her, washing his parched throat with her milk, and he had yet to stop cumming even when she was filled to the brim and he continued thrusting. Catelyn panted wildly and her MILFy body convulsed as her nerves were left seared and overwhelmed in the aftermath, and his cock-brew soon became too much for her as she gave a final scream when his cum shot out around his cock and across the bed and floor.

When finally after a long minute and a half his balls were emptied, he pulled out with a wet suction sound, and watched contentedly as his steaming cum poured out of her well-fucked and twitching pussy. He looked up at her beautiful face and saw that she had been fucked unconscious. This brood-bitch had accepted her place, and she'd find herself guilty over cheating on her loving husband, but she would return to Lyonel regardless to bear his children, and she would sleep at night content, just as she was doing now.

He turned her over on her side and laid down behind her to place his cock between her cheeks and snuggle against her, giving her loving kisses on her cheek so as to degenerate her by treating her as a husband would, showering her with smooches. It served to cement his place in her life, and her subconscious would cast Eddard aside for him.

In her unconscious state she moved closer to him and and rested her voluptuous figure against his, occasionally letting out moans and whimpers as her sweaty body that reeked of cum and sex accepted him over all other men in her life.

He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around a Catelyn Tully fucked well, and his nose in her red hair.


	3. Arya Stark

Days after Lyonel took Catelyn for himself, his marriage to Arya Stark was announced. Even Lyonel doubted it would go over smoothly with the spitfire he's known for so long, but it seems her devotion to him was more absolute than even he knew, as she accepted without hesitation and by all accounts even seemed joyful.

Lyonel could wait no more to take her as his queen, and insisted they marry in Winterfell. The Starks were pleased, his queen mother was irked (though he fucked the annoyance out of her later that night), and the king seemed to have no problem with the idea.

They stood before the heart tree of Winterfell as they said their vows, the royal court and court of Winterfell watching, among them a proud Ned and happy Robb, Lyonel's beaming younger siblings whilst a glowering Joffrey stood beside them (he was forced to marry Sansa, who was just as displeased by the prospect as him). His mother looked on frowning, and he smirked at her, only for her to avert her eyes.

When their vows were spoken and he placed the Baratheon stag around her shoulders, Lyonel carried Arya to the great feast.

As they sat side by side at their table above all others, they spoke and joked to each other, and he could see Arya's happiness shining through her eyes. Lyonel would occasionally look about the feast. He met Sansa's eyes, and there were no words needed to describe how she looked. If only she knew how fucked she would be, in time.

He couldn't help his smile when he met Catelyn's eyes and she blushed in utter shame, looking down.

She returned to his bedchamber again one night, and he laid waiting for her on his bed, smiling as she stood before him.

"Back for more? I thought you did it for Ned. He's safe, you don't need to do this anymore." He forgot to mention he was never in any real danger.

The mention of Ned's name filled her with guilt, but the regret didn't seem enough to dissuade her from coming here. "I… I need you."

Lyonel sneered at her, "Filthy whore. Have you no shame, cheating on your husband like this?" His cock hardened all the same, of course. And deservingly slutshaming the Tully fish-slut only made him harder.

She closed her eyes, expression pained from the disgrace she brought upon herself, yet she stood tall nonetheless, her hands holding her untied clothes together from falling, for she came to him prepared. She needed him. "I do… But you're too great. I must have you, or I'll go mad."

He stood from his bed and walked over to her, finger stroking along her cheek, causing her to swoon against her will and rest her cheek on his palm, as she would do with Ned, "Eddard can't satisfy you?"

She blushed at having to admit it, "He's… very skilled… or he was, until I had you. Because now… when I finish-"

"When you cum," he corrected.

Catelyn swallowed, "When… I cum, I barely feel a thing. I can only cum thinking of you, your cock. Thinking of… riding you, of… of being fucked by you, behind Ned's back."

He was pleased by her willingness to speak in such a filthy manner, but he knew it was so he wouldn't make her say worse. So, he made her say worse, "What exactly are your fantasies? Give me details..."

She closed her eyes and moaned out in dismay, fidgeting where she stood, and Lyonel looked down to see it was because she was rubbing her thighs together from how wet she was. He looked at her face and admired the mature beauty, her high cheekbones and sharp jaw and chin, and her full lips she'd wrap around his cock, as she told him about her shameful and guilty pleasures. "I fantasize being on my back on top of mine and Ned's bed as you take me, and he's out fighting in a war. And on our bed I fantasize bouncing on your lap as he marches in the cold, and nursing on your cock and caring for it and tending to it as he's strategizing with his bannermen. I fantasize of conceiving our children while he's battling an enemy army. You're filling my womb as he's fighting for his life. I fantasize of you sleeping on his side of the bed at night and warming yourself by cuddling with me and kissing me and embracing me as Ned would while he's gone to freeze in a tent, and I imagine you taking over his side of the bed by taking me, his wife, and making me yours while he risks his life to defend the North." Her voice grew huskier with every word, and her lust and shame only grew. "I imagine you taking his place as lord of Winterfell while he longs to come home, only to find you sitting on his lord's seat with me riding you as my slutty ass jiggles and bounces up and down on your cock in front of everyone - Oh, by the seven! I need you!" she exclaimed in mad with lust and guilt.

This was expected, of course. Lyonel would oust Eddard and take his place in Cat's life. But knowing it would happen did nothing to take away from the satisfaction. He smiled wider and wider with every word, as the fantasies became his own and he felt the urge to take Catelyn grow stronger and stronger, "That's not all."

She nodded, "I also fantasize myself pregnant with your babes, and after birthing them, I'm sitting at your feet as you're in Ned's seat and declare yourself lord of Winterfell in front of him, and I'm suckling your babes on my breasts all the while, flaunting our beautiful black-haired hungry children to him, and when you exile him, I smirk at him and do nothing as the guards take him away, and bite my lips and smile as our babes bite on my nipples and drink my milk in front of his eyes. Gods, it all gets me so wet..." She spoke it with equal measure of lust and shame.

Hearing her words had him wild with lust like never before. He would compensate Eddard, aye, more than enough, and he had ways, supernatural ways at that, of making sure he would accept wholeheartedly. But for now, he was content living out his fantasy of fucking his friend's wife behind his back and ruining their marriage. "Even then It's not enough with mere fantasies, is it?"

"...No."

He grabbed her by her hips, drawing a gasp from her full lips, and pulled her towards him, "So I fuck you better than Ned can."

Her face contorted in shame as she nodded, "Yes…You fuck me better than Ned."

"And if I demanded you leave him for me?"

"I… I would," said Catelyn, astonished at the revelation about herself, of her whorish lusts and willingness to leave a man who loves her for a man who degrades her like she deserves and become nothing more than a set of holes for him to cum inside. "I would leave Ned for you, Master."

"If I took his seat in the North, would you help him get it back?"

"No!" she exclaimed immediately, "I'd suck on your cock as you exile him!"

"What about your children? Bran and Rickon need you. Would you leave them knowing their mother left them just to live the rest of her life to be my bitch?"

"Yes..."

He chuckled at her, "And what of Arya? We're to be married tomorrow. Would you go behind her back and fuck the one she loves?"

"I would..."

"Well then. Why aren't you naked yet?" he asked, and she relieved herself of a long, husky sigh she didn't know she held in, before shrugging her robes off to pool around her feet, revealing her delightfully thick, curved MILF's body for him to peruse and ravage and amuse himself with. She flinched when he suddenly gripped her shoulders, staring into his eyes in surprise and anticipation. She gave a gasp of awe when he smiled at her, completely taken by him, and allowed herself to be dragged to his bed.

His room was filled that night with the sound of flesh smacking together and muffled screams and moans from Catelyn as she shoved her face down into Lyonel's bedding and he fucked her from behind relentlessly, ass jiggling.

"Pinch your nipples," he whispered into her ear, "Imagine it's our black haired children suckling on your huge tits as I fuck you. Imagine Ned's in his war tent, thinking of how much he misses you and loves you, clueless that I'm breeding you on his bed."

She cried out in pleasure as her mind showed her such an image, before she stood on her knees, back arched as she dug the nails of her thumbs and index fingers into her nipples, moaning out while she shoved her ass back to meet his thrusts.

She cried out his name when he came inside her, and when they fell limp on the bed and he laid on top of her back, prone, he asked her, "Did you think of Eddard as I fucked you?"

"W-who?"

Of all the things she could have stammered deliriously to leave him satisfied like never before at the conquest of a woman, she said the best thing she could to leave him laughing and resting his muscular body on top of her, content.

He fell asleep that night on top of Catelyn's sweaty body, and dreamed of the ways he would cuck Arya, and when he woke up he fucked Cat silly again before kissing her lovingly and embracing her, taking Ned's place in more and more than just her fantasies.

Gods, that was a fun night, Lyonel thought.

This night, however, Arya would become his wife, but he wouldn't become hers in the same way she would become his. She would be his queen, aye, the one he would truly love and cherish above all others, but after he fucks her, she will remain his and he will take whomever he wanted, and he would make her watch.

He grinned when the bedding ceremony began, and they were taken to crowds of their opposite sex. Arya was pulled into a crowd of men and they tore her clothes off her nubile, voluptuous young body to reveal it chiseled like a warrior-woman, yet retaining the feminine beauty and curves, and sharp facial features of her aunt Lyanna. She possessed along with her firm, perky breasts a fat bubble-ass, thick hips, and full legs, all but her bosom more impressive than her rapecow mother's. What few of the crowd of men that surrounded her who dares pinch or cup her ass and tits were given broken fingers and black-eyes, and no one else made the same mistake with the wolf that was Arya Stark grown.

Where Arya was undressed with eagerness and lust, however, Lyonel was undressed in worship, as eyes of maids, maidens, and noblemen's wives all surrounded his body to stare in awe of his perfect, godly body. No Stark or Baratheon participated in either's undressing as it would've been inappropriate for the parties' families to partake in this. But there were more than enough women for Lyonel to enjoy. He let his tunic and trouser and undergarment shed as their hands pulled at them, and grinned fiercely at their lustful eyes unable to look away. Shielded from the eyes of his family and Arya's, and knowing these women's bodies were his already with but a mere gaze upon his body, he grabbed the beautiful wife of Gregor Forrester, Elissa, by her hair and shoved her head down on his cock to choke and spit-slick it.

She gagged several times, but the hollers and jokes from both crowds silenced it to anyone but the women that stood in a crowd about him, and they wouldn't speak a word as he well knew, and when finally her face was covered in spit and his cock was fully wet, he tossed her off his cock to land on her ass like she was a piece of meat, and the others admired his fully hardened shaft shining. After he was carried to the bedroom by them, their hands stroking his chest and arms and abs, and a few daring ones stroking his cock without care that they would have to explain to their noble husbands the spit on their hands, Lyonel arrived before a naked Arya, who once fiercely stood before the eyes of the crowd of men now blushed like a maiden before him.

The others closed the doors and left them to themselves.

Arya looked at the ground first, but as he stood admiring her gorgeous, amazonian body, her eyes finally looked over his, and she began to drip like a tankard filled to the brim, her body growing hot and her cheeks reddening.

When she saw his massive cock finally, her jaw slacked at its size, and couldn't help but be worried. "Why is it so… hard, and wet?" she asked naively, oblivious to what her new husband did behind her back.

He gave no answer, instead startling her by grabbing her by the waist and shoving their bodies together to mould to each others figures, her tits flattening against him and his lips capturing hers in a show of dominance. Her tongue struggled, yes, to show him that a wolf wouldn't bend over easily, but it was all for naught as he proved overwhelming for someone so inexperienced, and she grew compliant like all wolf bitches do before the alpha wolf. But he was more than a wolf, and she would to more than be bent over. She would be tamed.

He pulled away and stared into her eyes, and she did the same. "I love you," she said, eyes full of worship.

He smiled at her, and her heart leapt, "And I love you, Arya."

He kissed her again as she cried out happily into his mouth, not letting her go from his body or ceasing rubbing his cock on her abs as he walked her over to the bed and laid her down on it. He pulled back with her saliva in his mouth and his in hers, and he smiled down at her before suddenly turning her over, to Arya's surprise.

"What are you doing?"

She gasped when his hands gripped her fat mounds of assflesh and squeezed them, drawing whimpering moans from her throat into his mouth as he leaned over her and she looked up to accept his lips from above. Her ass was even softer than her mother's, and so much more fun to play with, so he mauled it mercilessly and roughly, and Arya's hands tapped lightly against the bed to signal her pain, but he gave it no thought.

This bitch would be his, and she would learn to become his toy, no matter her own loss.

When she dared pull away from the kiss, looking into his eyes pleading and asked him to be gentle, he realized just how much she truly loved him, for had it been anyone else she'd have taken their head off, but with him she actually asked.

"Be gentle, Lyonel. It's hurti- AH!"

His hand smacked down on her ass hard to leave a red handprint on the plump stack of round flesh, making her jump and push herself against him even further. She blushed even as she looked at him with wide eyes and open mouthed shock when he rubbed his cock between the valley of her twin globes of flesh. "What are you, Arya?" he asked.

She stared up at him with confused, adorable eyes that almost made him rape her right then and there, "W-what?- AH!"

He smacked her again. "What are you?"

"Y-your queen," she answered, before flinching on the bed as another Smack! landed on her ass, "Gods, Lyonel!"

"Wrong. What are you?"

"I don't know!"

She yelped again and again as he assaulted and abused her ass with constant slaps and mauling, asking her what she was while she failed to answer and flinched, bouncing on the bed, leading to him violating her poor, sensitive bottom even more.

"Stop!" she begged, "You're hurting me!" not noticing her own wetness soaking the sheets.

"What are you?" he asked again.

"I don't know!" she said, staring up at him with pleading eyes as he loomed over her, "Please, tell me! Tell me what I am!"

"My bitch," he smiled, and she gasped with wide eyes, shocked at seeing this side of him. It stunned her, and deep down it aroused her, dominated her, the sight of this creature so fearlessly and mightily abuse her like she was nothing, and it began to tame the wolf within her. "I'm going to bend you over and fuck you. In the bedroom, you're not a queen. You're a whore. A bitch. And you're going to be treated like one."

"Lyonel, what is this?" she asked, confused and fearful.

He didn't appreciate the latter; this was nothing to fear, but to rejoice over and submit to, so he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "This is your life. You will ride and fight and rule as my queen, but when you're alone with me, all you will ride is my cock, all you will fight is to wrap your legs around my waist and struggle to cram my cockmeat into your young womb as I fill it with my children, and all you will rule is nothing. In the bedroom, you are my brood-bitch."

Her brows furrowed, for she was confused by all of this. Being molested and dominated so daringly unlike the ones that tore her clothes off was new. They were cowards, hiding in the shadows and crowds for fear of her retribution, but Lyonel, the man she loved since she was a child, proved a completely different person. He was not frightening; her fear came from the suddenness and confusion of this new development. No, he was commanding, daring, strong, and she was falling even more in love with him for it, though she didn't realize this. Instead she was confused at how careless he seemed, how fearless and domineering.

She never felt hornier, or more submissive and powerless.

"Please," she begged, and she was shocked by how she didn't dare or want to go against him, "Stop, or be gentle at least! I want to feel good! I want to make love, Lyonel!"

He paused then, the beastly Lyonel calmed from his lusts, and stared into her beautiful pleading eyes, and while he couldn't deny the love he felt for her, he would not deny his own pleasure. So he smashed his lips into hers and kept his hands clamped on her bubbly assflesh to squeeze and maul and abuse it as it bulged between his fingers and reddened, and parted the milky globes to line his cock with her sopping cunt.

She screamed when he emptied into her ruthlessly, and the sound of his hips smacking against her bubble butt soon began to fill the room, and he pressed himself down on her back and covered her body with his own, prone boning her cock-drunk and forcing gasps from her, and moulding her pleasure-ridden and warm young body to the feeling of his stature and size and girth alone, configuring her brain and body to an addiction of his precum and sweat.

The only reason he started so savagely with a rough raping was only because he knew her love and lust would win over the pain and she would feel only joy and pleasure in time, coming to love it when he decided to tear her clothes off and force her hands above her head to settle between her thighs and pack his girthy cock into her cunt and rape her silly as he speared through her walls and filled her baby-ditch, just as she would come to thank him for ignoring her begging for him to stop after he took his rights as the pinnacle of the human male and her god-husband..

But that part had yet to come, and tears ran down her face from the pain, hoping it would end soon, even though she would endure this for the man she loved. She even submitted with whimper into his mouth whilst letting her tongue get punched around and abused by his and swallowed what spit he blessed her bitch mouth with, feeling it vividly glide down her throat, gagging and choking on both tongue and thick frothing saliva, and causing her to jerk forward with *chocking* sounds andHurks! as she felt him thrust into her virginal cunt with his cockmeat at the same time.

She let out a horribly desperate gasp for breath when he finally pulled back, having tonguefucked her mouth and throat silly and filled her stomach with his addictive saliva, driving Arya breathless almost to the point of passing out, but her gasps turned to yelps of pain and pleasure when he raised his hand to slap it down on her asscheeks again.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

His rapid slaps reddened her cheeks into crimson the shapes of hands, sending wave after wave of jiggling pale assflesh, and Lyonel felt the beast intensify at the lewd sight of her milky fat mounds bouncing against the strikes of his hands and sending waves across the plump porcelain stacks of flesh.

Arya moaned frantically, happily, and dumbly, when she felt his hands dig into her short hair and pull at her roots, and she began panting as he forced her head up, his other hand lifting her by her hip to her hands and knees, and demanded, "Bark for me!"

Her heart raced, and she hoped she heard wrong, "W-what?!"

"Bark for me. Go on, don't be shy, Puppyslut."

Arya's panting grew uncontrollable, nervous, uncertain, as she was given this command. However, all it took was a single slap to her ass, clamping her tight virgin cunt down on his shaft, both milking him harder, and scraping her walls and nerves against his cock just as his slaps sent signals of pain from her ass, and reminding her of his thick spit sliding down her throat and feeding her, and Lyonel's tongue beating hers, and finally her sanity slipped away after the barrage of pleasure and abuse. Her mind no longer recognized itself as Arya Stark, but as Lyonel's Bitch, her brain and body fully reconfigured to him, and having been fucked silly, she began barking out high-pitched in the sexiest and most fitting way she could.

Like a puppy.

"Arf-arf!"

He laughed and his heart raced, the adorable sound coming from the gorgeous nubile eighteen year old exciting him madly, "That's it, wolf-bitch. That's it, Puppyslut. Bark for me. Bark as you take my cock."

Her dumb cunt brain understood nothing of what her venerable husband and owner, bar the words 'bitch', 'bark', and 'Puppyslut'. "Arf-arf-arf! Arf-arf-arf!"

Even as Arya was once embarrassed and humiliated, she was far too fucked out of her mind and, coupled with a subconscious desire to be dominated that always lurked in her mind, drove home the rape of her body and self-worth alike as her cunt's walls were sawed at and thrust against and her womb was speared and gored with his bitchbreaker. She, Arya Stark, a young, buxom and amazonian woman grown, had trained so relentlessly and beaten so many challengers that dared question her skill or mettle simply by merit of her being a girl, and had fought against the societal stigma of being a warrior woman in Westeros and fighting against all odds, only to be willingly married off to a superior alpha, whom she underestimated and had now bent her over like a bitch and raped her will away and made her his puppyslut. And for all of her hard work to be for nothing, for it all to end in her being fucked into a woman, drove Arya, now fucked into Lyonel's Bitch, to such heights of pleasure and humiliation it made her insane with pleasure.

So she continued, tongue hanging out and wagging as she panted, "Arf-arf! Arf-arf! Arf-arf! Arf-arf-arf-arf!"

This slutty act created a subconscious bond between an apex alpha and a bitch in heat, the former having realized his superiority of mind, will, and strength, and his right to take this worthy mate and rape her cunt full of his children and drive her to become his cock-slut, whilst the latter was still adjusting to this new way of life she would grow to cherish above everything and everyone else bar the person that fucked into her this said way of life.

Even as she gushed her juices and took his cock in her cunt, she had difficulty understanding what was happening to her as much as she enjoyed it, due to her idiotic and unnecessary shame that was native in her upbringing and brought on by her dumb fish-whore mother, now as much a cock-lusting harlot as Ros from the brothel, planting foolish ideas in her head. Ideas such as that it wasn't her duty to ride her godly lover, who so benevolently married her to honor the unworthy rapedoll that she was, until he stuffed her womb ten times over with his pearly, steaming cum and molded her cunt to the impeccable and impressive shape of his cock, or that it wasn't her destiny to be submit to this strong apex predator should he decide to rape her, even would he have been a stranger and thrown her to the ground public and raped her for all to see to his own amusement or for the sake of breeding her and make her bear his rape-babies, rape-babies she would cum and scream out in a mind-rotting, cock-induced bliss to as they were pumped into her womb. Or the idea that it wasn't her life's obligation to thank this virile and herculean beast for fucking her and showing her true joy and purpose of a woman who dared pretend she was a warrior above other men, and for allowing her to become his top breeding bitch above all his others.

Her brainless bitch mother had mistakenly taught her that she wasn't to continue popping out his children and sucking his cock until he fed her his pearly ball-spunk, as gratitude for going on this marauding quest of breeding the women of Westeros, of giving them a purpose in raising his children and nourishing them on their tits, and raping any delusions of grandeur they had out of them, only allowing them to continue following these delusions by his mercy, just as he would allow this top breeder known as Arya by others to continue becoming a warrior queen.

And she had to learn it was by his mercy that she could become one. It was because of this that her dumb bitch brain froze in disbelief and pleasure as his cock kindly, mercifully, taught her her place beneath him, both figuratively and literally.

His kind teachings was made manifest currently in the form of her mind-breaking orgasm, turning her barks frantic and loud and making her whimper and whine like a puppyslut for his cock-milk as her body convulsed and quaked on his cock. He slapped her ass and Arya forced herself out of her whorish reverie to focus on ignoring the idiotic lessons of her hypocritic strumpet mother and pleasing her one true love by milking the cum from his cock, and by barking again as his puppyslut, "Arf-arf! Arf-arf-arf!"

She loved him, but she would grow to love him even more as she was allowed to follow her dreams of becoming a warrior and woman-knight by his grace, and she would love him even further as he fed her his massive bitch-breaker in her only-recently fucked cunt, but she would not be allowed to grow arrogant as he would not only rape his cock into her, but also an understanding. It was by his grace alone that she was allowed to become whatever she so desired; this understanding would install a subservience in her mind at her fiercest, and even should she stand bloodied in a battlefield with a million men lying slain around her feet, seeing him would trigger her well-trained bitch mind and warm her body into a submissive state so as not to foolishly offend this superior and merciful beast that granted her such pleasure and kindness, and she would immediately become the loving wife and queen at his side, discarding her weapons and armor to kneel and nurse on his cock.

However, at her most submissive, not as the wolf bitch, the puppyslut of Lyonel, but as Arya Stark who loves him with all her heart, she will never look at another man with such devotion as she does him, even should he embrace and touch and interact with other women in such inappropriate ways not a friend or acquaintance would, or if he would kiss other women carelessly around him, uncaring of her humiliated and wounded feelings, perhaps even relishing in it, which he would soon enough, she would still love him. She will love him to the point where even when he humiliated her she would only profess her feelings for him and beg for him to show kindness and fuck her.

But this process was a drastic change for a dumb creature like her, and would be made far easier with a step-by-step process. So he finally leaned in whilst not once having stopped his slapping of her ass throughout his teaching, her milky assflesh now having turned a deep crimson in the form of several handmarks, and whispered into her ear as she continued but silenced her barking slightly and kept her tongue hanging at her beautiful lips that were almost as full as her mother's like a puppy, knowing she had to listen to his undoubtedly imperative word, "Gods, you're a beautiful creature, Arya. A good little Puppyslut."

She barked in joyous and lustful response, his cock pounding into her, as she willingly degrading herself for his pleasure despite her human thoughts, if one could still call them human despite her willingness to debase herself into an animal, "Arf-arf! Arf-AH!" she turned from adorable barking to a just as adorable scream of pleasure as another orgasm ripped through the nerves of her body.

By the gods, how could she have once thought love stories stupid? This is how the maiden's repaid their brave knight's for rescuing them, by spreading their legs and taking their children in their wombs. This is what making love to her first crush, her first genuine love was like? If only her mother and stupid sister could have told her! Dumb whores! Gods, if felt good to be raped into becoming Lyonel's Puppyslut!

Then she reminded herself she was lucky to have fallen in love with Lyonel - nay, she was lucky to have been chosen by Lyonel! Falling in love with him would be inevitable for any woman, and so would submitting to him as she had, but only one could be chosen as his wife, and she was the one.

Lyonel waited for her to recover, and resumed his whispering, "Do you know what you're life's going to be like after this, Puppyslut?"

She stopped her barking and nodded, tugging at her own hair as he still gripped it, "Arf-arf! Amazing! Gods, I love this! I love you! I love being your Puppyslut, Lyonel! Arf-arf-arf!"

He chuckled, "I know," before kissing her cheek, and she swooned. "But that's not all. I'm not only going to fuck you."

Her heart raced. "Arf!? W-what!? Why not!? I'm your queen, your puppyslut - Arf-arf! - Oh!" she moaned out from his cock and slaps.

"You are. But surely you must have realized my lust is great, no?"

She nodded frantically, and cringed at the pain in her hair, "Y-yes! You're amazing, magnificent! I want you for myself!" She wagged her tongue absentmindedly and flinched as her asscheeks jiggled form his hand's impact. "Arf-arf!"

"But you're not enough, not alone. This marriage is a kindness I've given you."

"I know," she panted. "I love you so much for it!" Arya barked again.

"And I love you," he said, voice as strong and confident as always, "It is why I married you."

She felt herself swoon again, unable to turn her head and look at him but hearing his words anyways. When she spoke, her voice quivered, "Thank you! Thank you for marrying me and raping your Puppyslut!"

"Of course," he laughed. "You can repay me for it."

"A-anything! I-I'll do anything! Arf-arf!"

He groaned at her cunt constantly clamping down on him with every slap, milking him, "Then I will fuck other women. Our marriage will become a lesson, to teach you your place at my side as queen. This is also another lesson, to teach you the pleasures of being my bitch. And being my bitch, my Puppyslut, is your place alone! It's an honor I've granted you, but it's not enough for me. I have breeders, whores to carry my bastards and raise them. I'm going to take even more, for it is the way of the world."

His truthful words proved confusing to this puppyslut, whose brain has been fucked and womb-raped and ass-slapped silly, her baby-ditch battered and bruised, and so it is understandable that she feels this way, "Arf? W-what? I - oh, gods! You're so big, so good! I-I don't understand! Arf-arf!"

He laughed at her, "This pleasure you're feeling, and knowing your place is beneath me, does it not make you feel complete?"

She took pause, and there was no sound but the constant rapid slapping of his hand against her asscheek, his hips smacking against her jiggling derriere, and her panting, and she thought about his words, and realized that he was right. "I-it does! It completes me!"

"More people deserve it. Even if they don't know it. So I'll take breeders. I'll cuckold other men and fuck their wives and mothers and daughters and sisters behind their back. I'll keep them around and fuck them pregnant as soon as they're able so that my children will give this joy to other women they decide to take as a wife. And if I have to rape this joy into some unwilling, proud, and foolish women who think themselves anything more than an opportunity for passing soldiers to gangrape or as an inevitable breeder for strong beasts such as I, so be it. I want my blood to rule the world, not lesser men. It will be my sons who breed and rule and take over the world. My blood will give them superiority. But you understand this already, and you also understand there's nothing better than bouncing on my cock."

She nodded desperately, "Y-yes! It's true! I understand! But I still don't want you to," she said, with a voice that was a mixture of begging and lust. "I want you for myself! I love you! Arf-arf-arf!"

"And I will always love you. But I'll make you forget this as I fuck other women in front of you and force you to watch. I'll wait until you regain your sanity and become the pretentious Arya Stark who thought she could be a warrior, and then I'll humiliate you, as a lesson. It is for your own sake, because I love you. I've tamed you, Arya Stark, and you love it. You love taking my cock and barking for me like the bitch you are. But your wolf blood has taken to my cock so well because it feels good. And I can't tame your wolf fully with pleasure alone. You have to learn to love me even when I degrade you and treat you cruelly like dirt. For your own sake. And you want to be tamed, because it feels good. As my queen and love, you have been tamed, and as a reward you'll be allowed to become a warrior as you've always wished, even when you don't deserve it. As my Puppyslut, you want to be tamed. You want to be tamed by me, by my cock. You want to submit, you want me to violate and dominate the wolf within you."

"I do want to be tamed!" she realized. "Arf-Arf! I want to submit!"

"I know," he said, grinning as she screamed out in yet another orgasm, and he felt himself reach his own climax. "So this will become your life, once I have finished training you as my cuckquean and tamed the wolf fully."

Despite at how she should have felt her heart drop or break, she could only feel a sense of deep loyalty and submission to him, and despite her fear of the humiliations to come, a want to please him and repay him won over it, and so, even knowing the shame and disgrace and humiliation that awaited her, she could only accept, "Okay! Okay! I'll do as you say! For you, Lyonel! Arf-arf-arf!"

He grinned, "Good," and hastened his fucking, and Arya's moans and whimpers and barks loudened, jerking every time he tugged at her short brown hair. His rapid slaps came down on her asscheek even quicker and harder, and his cock hilted inside her, plunged into her deeper with every thrust, and he commanded her, "Now, bark, Puppyslut."

Suddenly, her mind snapped again, and she became his bitch again, "Arf-arf-arf!"

He speared through the walls of her baby-ditch with every thrust of his hips forward into her, causing wet squelching sounds inside her cunt and womb, and his grunts grew more bestial as he pulled his hips further back and his thrusts became quicker, rougher. Arya's barking grew more rapid, desperate, as her womb was continuously raped by his cock parting her sopping folds and plunging his beastly rape-spear into her cunt and womb, her wagging tongue limping against her lips in blinding pleasure as her mind became blank.

"I'm going to cum, my Puppyslut! Beg for my cum!"

And she did, begging as Lyonel's puppyslut as he plunged into her womb, "Arf-arf-arf! Give me your cum! Fill me up! Arf-arf- _AHHHH_!"

She screamed, squirting out jets of her cum and soaking the bed through as Lyonel let out a bestial roar, his balls twitching powerfully against her quivering clit and his cock spasming in the confines of her undulating cunt and receiving rape-womb, filling it to the brim as his hips jerked and bumped his fat cockhead against the top of her walls, pouring his pearly cum into her for an entire minute. Arya whimpered softly with every rope of pearly, waterless cocksludge spewing from his cockhole, his orgasm sounding like a rush of liquid, and the guests at the feast, men and women alike, cheered at the sound of both Lyonel and Arya roaring and screaming out in pleasure respectively.

Her soft whimpers died down when her womb was gorged full on his baby-batter, and he rested his hips and pelvis against her cushioning fat ass with his cock still inside her, blocking all cum but the ones forced out from so little room, and letting it stew and boil and churn in her womb, lying down on top of her as he did to her mother a day ago, though this time his loving kisses to her cheeks and lips were genuine, as was his embrace, and wish for children with her.

The wish was but a loving sentiment, and it was guaranteed she would be raped pregnant if he wished it. But the next day, he would have her take the moon tea, for only when he sits upon his throne and breeds her on her knees on his king's bed will he accept a prince or princess from her. And only when he's cucked her until her wolf is as much his rapedoll as she is will he pump a baby in her.

"I love you..." she mumbled softly with her tongue hanging out as her well-fucked brain had yet to fix itself, and she barked out softly, "Arf… arf… arf..." and slipped from consciousness.

"I love you too, Puppyslut."

Lyonel waited for five minutes, enjoying her soft ass and legs cushioning him as he laid on top of her, before finally sitting up and pulling out of her cunt with a wet splorch! His cum rushed out of her womb where it had boiled and stewed, and rushed out on the bedding to swarm and stain it, viscous and thick and pearly, and the room was soon filled with the steam emanating off of it.

He laid down on their marriage bed and pulled her up to himself, falling asleep naked with her in his arms.


	4. Arya's Marriage

**Any questions you have, you gotta PM me or leave in a review using an account, because I can't answer guest reviews. I will only answer in the author's note this once, but after that you need to follow the instructions:**

**Guest asking if I'll stop after chapter 4: No. I'm actually not stealing this story like the last guy that updated it. I'm the original author. Therefore, I can say that I will be updating, but updates are never going to be given a schedule. I'm doing this for fun, sharing delicious ideas I have in private and put on paper. It isn't a job. I will never force myself to churn out chapters, because without fun both my willingness to continue the story and the story's quality will deteriorate. This is for free, it's not a commission, thus I have no monetary motivation. **

**That means it might be months between each chapter. However, I am currently working on a fifth chapter and I've gotten about 5000 words in, which includes Sansa Stark, and Joffrey. It will lean heavy on cheating aspect, kind of like this chapter, but with another's marriage (Joffrey and Sansa's, let's be real). I'd say I'm about halfway done (I think)? **

**The sixth chapter, the themes of which I haven't fully outlined, but still written on, will be focused on Melisandre only (as of now, unless I get extra ideas to put into it in addition).**

**Chapter tags: _Heavy_ cuckqueaning, NTR, Humiliation**

* * *

Lyonel stirred with a waking Arya in his arms the night after, both reeking of sweat, sex, and copious cum, both's nether regions covered in each other's juices. He looked down at her smiling as she let a soft sigh pass her lips, swollen plump from his tonguerape of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open and she remembered what happened when he told her, "Good morning, Puppyslut."

Arya blushed furiously and with a pathetic whine of shame hid her face in his chest, not looking even as he grabbed her asscheek with his hand, only squirming pitifully as she hoped her beloved husband and love would give her the mercy she felt she deserved and not bring out the whorish nature within, as she already felt herself dripping from the rough mauling.

Ha! Deserved? His bitch regained her sanity, it seems; a stupid thing for a woman, especially his wife, but he would allow her to keep it regardless. Many others would be mind-raped and shattered on his cock, but he'd keep a select few sane. And it was not out of mercy. Of course not, for what woman deserves such a thing?

No, it was out of the cruelty he held in his bestial heart. His animalistic instincts craved for toys to play with, and not just with their bodies but their minds as well. Just as he would torture Arya by making her watch as he fucked other women.

The more the thought occurred to him the more eager he got. But of course, it was her sanity that would allow her the shame and humiliation that would bring him such pleasure, so it was no surprise that he would indeed allow her said sanity.

He grinned at her and spoke, "No need for being shy, Puppyslut. We both know what happened, and we both know it was more than a heat in the moment thing. Your true self surfaced, my beautiful bitch."

She finally looked up, though the movement was greatly hesitant and shameful and quivering, and when she tried to speak out of turn, he interrupted by thrusting his tongue into her mouth and locked her swollen lips to his own and made out with her, feeding her his spit in copious amounts, a drowning amount even, of saliva, and forcing her to swallow loudly and thickly and dutifully without reprieve.

Whenever she thought he was done, she tried to pull away, only for him to regurgitate even more spit, forcing her to keep their lips together and drink it, an act of dominance to let her know he decided when they were done.

When finally he allowed her mercy, she gasped loudly and panted for air, body heaving against him. Arya chocked and coughed, spittles flying from her mouth. She tried to wipe the spit covering her lips, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head. The sight of her lips glistening with his saliva was cock-hardening.

"When we're alone, you will only speak if I allow you to, and you will only clean yourself of my gift when I say you will."

She complied submissively with a nod, and finally spoke with saliva-dripping, trembling lips when he gestured for her to speak, "I-I know what I said, Lyonel. About letting you… fuck other women, but..." She hesitated in a way unlike Arya. It seems he fucked her well. "I-I don't feel right about it..."

He frowned, "You regret your decision?"

She nodded, averting her eyes so not to offend her master, her mate, her lover, her god. "Yes..."

He stared at her before leaning in to gently plant his lips against hers. He pulled back and stroked her face, "Then I won't."

The action admittedly surprised her, but there was no lack of joy. Elated, she laughed and planted kisses on his lips again and again, "Thank you! Thank You!"

He pulled back and threw the cover off him to reveal his cock, "Clean it, Puppyslut."

In her sane state she was unused to the treatment still, so she hesitated before instinctually, subconsciously, remembering her place, and obeyed. She sat up before leaning forward on her front to kiss it gingerly first, wanting to treat it lovingly. However, her sentiment was cut short by Lyonel's hand weaving through her hair and pushing her down completely throat his girthy length of flesh down her wet and warm tunnel. It was a rough and unloving treatment of pulling her up and swiftly slamming her down, allowing her only fractions of a second to breathe through her nose. Another subtle lesson; that no matter how much she loved him and showed it through words or actions, sexual or otherwise, he could and would treat her as a cocksleeve, for it was the natural way of things. It was her duty to pleasure a man, and even better if she suffers while doing it.

His cock throbbed inside her throat in anticipation of the misogynistic and pure kingdom he would create in time, of women being raped becoming commonplace and encouraged.

When the only thing remaining that stained his cock was her spit, he emptied out into her mouth and held her there for a few seconds to enjoy her throat vibrating and undulating from her gagging and desperate need to swallow for air. His tightened grip on her hair painfully helped to make her struggle even further, but he finally let go after a few seconds, and Arya flew back with a loud gasp, bouncing on the bed.

She struggled a few seconds to catch her air.

When she did, a knock was heard on the door, and she didn't notice Lyonel walking over to open it until the last second, and with a panicked yelp she hid her body under the covers.

The door opened to reveal a maid she'd noticed following Lyonel often, and shamed under her surprised gaze to see the amazonian 18 year old so disheveled and clearly well-fucked. The woman was very much buxom and looked quite attractive. She had blue eyes like Lyonel, and brown hair.

"The babe's asleep," the maid said, tearing her eyes off Arya.

"Good," replied Lyonel. He turned to his wife, "Come to the bath. She's to clean us."

"What?!" she exclaimed surprised. Lyonel didn't answer and went in to the next room with his personal bath and sauna, the maid following.

Arya wiped her lips of Lyonel's spit, her untrained bitch mind forgetting her master's orders, and followed swiftly. She entered to find him leaning back against the stone edge of tub as it was being filled with hot steaming water by the beautiful maid.

Lyonel admired his wife's wide hips as she hesitantly stepped into the bath, naked alongside him in front of the maid's gaze. She tried to sit in to his right side, but was stunned when his hands gripped her waist to stop her, "You will sit in front of me."

"What?" she asked like the dumb whore she was. "Why?" She seemed more saddened and disappointed than angered, but then again, she wouldn't dare be angered with her master and god-husband.

"You wiped your lips without my permission. This is your punishment."

She could do nothing but obey, and alike felt ashamed and abashed to have been reprimanded like a dog, or… like a Puppyslut, in front of a stranger.

A stranger only to her, of course. She wasn't aware of the daughter he put in the maid two years ago, the daughter she would suckle on her breast while she rode him.

Arya's eyes were still downcast in submission when the tub was filled with hot water, so it was only by luck that she managed to glance the maid eagerly taking her clothes off and throwing them in a pile in the corner. Her body was beautiful and buxom, fat breasts teeming with milk and an impressive fat arse, though not as impressive as her own, she thought proudly. Nor was her legs as voluptuous and muscled, yet it was far from unsightly when the maid dipped her thick legs and hips into the large tub, water stroking upwards until they were submersed completely right above her waist.

While Arya was the perfect mixture of muscle and fat in her curves, the woman was mostly fat, though she wasn't precisely overweight. She looked like the type of fertile wife any man would love to have. And Arya would be lying if she didn't think the woman looked fine.

The maid moved to clean Arya with the sponge in her hand, but was stopped by Lyonel's commanding voice, "Clean me first."

Arya gasped as the maid eagerly knelt beside Lyonel in the water and began wiping him clean with the sponge. The woman smooched longingly on his chest and arms and abs as she dragged the sponge across his muscles, and Arya's mouth was agape as Lyonel stared at her unflinchingly, before he turned to the maid and captured her lips in a kiss.

"Lyonel," she exclaimed and jumped to her feet, disturbing the water.

He immediately pulled away and shouted, "Sit down!"

Arya did so instantly. "I'm sorry. I won't disobey you ever again. But please, not this punishment." Her begging was a truth Lyonel had heard from many a more women he'd raped and impregnated and broken the minds of, but a reminder of how pathetic women truly are, those with fish-slut blood in their veins especially, aroused his cock as much as his faith in what he was doing and would go on to do was righteous.

He stared at her before laughing, "This isn't punishment, dear wife. This is my right."

"But you said you wouldn't fuck other women!"

He shrugged, and somehow that was worse than if he would have angrily ordered her to shut up, "I'm not fucking her."

He turned back to make out with the maid again, who after a while gave up on cleaning him and straddled him under the water, though as this whore was well-trained, she knew to lean her body in just the way so that Arya could see their faces and lips as they swapped spit.

Lyonel pulled back and the maid wordlessly slid down across his body, moaning and whimpering as her nerves were struck with electrical pleasure from his skin, her cunt wettening and tits dripping with milk, before her head submerged and her lips enveloped him, drinking any water left in her mouth before leaving a vacuum, cheeks concaving, and she began dragging her lips along his length.

All Arya could see was her hair as it floated to the top of the surface barring the subtle bobbing underwater as she began to throat his cock. Lyonel leaned back and let out moans and grunts of approval, never breaking eye contact with his wife. It let her know of things to come, of how she would watch him pleasure himself with other women, and how he would place favor in those women instead of her, only using her to abuse with mental cruelty.

For so long she was forced to watch her husband getting his cock suckled by some harlot maid, and every second the pit in her stomach and the shame only intensified before her world became despair, in turn intensifying the pleasure Lyonel derived from the cheating blowjob. Once he almost reached his limit, he pulled the maid off and stood up, walking over to Arya.

Under his great stature and looming cock she cowered and shamed and worshipped all at once, and she hated herself for it. She hated that she allowed herself to be treated this way, not knowing that in time she would grow to love the humiliation and the rapings she would suffer at his hand.

The maid used both her hands to milk him and pointed his cock at Arya's beautiful face contorted gorgeously with such despair while she wished she could tear herself free of Lyonel and his unrelenting allure and her unstoppable love for him. She wanted to move away from the cock that throbbed in a threat to cover her face in a sheen of his seed, as if spitting on her face and her honor alike, but she couldn't move.

All she dared do was gasp when the maid laughed and his fat delicious cock finally spurted thick ropes of almost-scalding cum, cum so thick it nearly sealed her eyes and mouth shut, sliding down her breasts and covering them too. When finally after what must have been his fifteenth rope, she was left gasping for air, face and tits covered in a thick sheen of his glistening, pearly ball-batter. She flinched almost violently when the maid slapped her hands against the sides of her face with an evil grin and began scraping handfuls of his cum and smearing it in her hair at first, completely highlighting it white, before grabbing her shoulders and bending her over the edge of the bathtub, and smearing a word on the small of her back with strings of burning-hot cum, searing said word into her skin.

Arya did nothing to stop her, for Lyonel had revealed her for what she truly was; a woman playing at a warrior. All her bravery and combat prowess meant nothing now in the face of a woman who had accepted her place as beneath men, combined with the greatest of men humiliating her all the while. So she laid there, bent over as the maid smeared BITCH on her, Lyonel repeating the word for her and laughing.

She didn't move, even as Lyonel and the maid got out of the bath and placed his arm on her shoulder and lead her to the door to their room, "Clean yourself up, bitch."

"Take your time, Stark slut," said the maid, "I know I will with your husband."

She laughed at Arya before closing the door behind them. Arya cleaned herself with tears falling down her face as she listened to the creaking of their bed and the screams of pleasure from the maid as she was pounded by Lyonel. When she finished, they were still going at it, but the bed wasn't creaking as loudly or violently.

She opened the door to see the maid riding Lyonel, her tits squished together and stretched out by their nipples he bit down on, suckling the milk from her breasts.

He let go of her teats and the maid whined out in desperation, before realizing when Lyonel turned to Arya that she was in the same room. She smiled wickedly before making a show of riding him, slamming down with effort on his cock. "Your clothes are next to the door, Arya," she said. The abnormal, or normal in Arya's dumb woman's mind, female would bite back, beat her, or tell her to go fuck herself, but all the Stark girl could do was look over in silence to see her training leathers and undergarment. Her panties were stained with something.

"Take the panties with spit on them. Let my saliva slicken your cunt when you ride on horseback, remind you that while you're riding a saddle I'm riding your husband."

And she did, slipping the panties on with a pathetic yet delicious expression of sadness and humiliation on her face. She proceeded to put on her training leathers, all while behind her her husband was cheating on her.

When she was fully clad, the maid moaned, "Now go, Arya Stark. You're not wanted here - Oh! - but don't worry, I'll make sure he impregnates me a second time. Oh my… you didn't know? Yes, you're not going to be the first he impregnates, ever. Nor will you be the last. He's fucked bastard babes into many a wombs. He's blessed my unworthy slut's cunt once, and he told me he'll do it one more time today. I could cry with joy, but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of the sight. Now, like I said; go. Go and train and practice, for all the good it won't do you, while I bear your husband's children."

Arya was crying without a sound, looking to Lyonel in her desperation, but he only looked at her without word, and hastened his fucking of the maid, drawing louder and louder whimpers. She left and wiped her eyes so that no one else would know. And like the spit that indeed slickened her cunt when she moved around in her skin-tight leather attire reminding her of the fact that her husband was fucking someone else, so too was she reminded of the creaking bed by the sound of her wooden practice sword hitting the training dummy.

This was how Lyonel's more discreet, genius lessons would take place. In her mind, her subconscious awakening.

Every time she heard others pant in exhaustion, she imagined Lyonel grunt as the maid moaned and panted above him, every time she heard someone fall down and yell out in pain, she imagined the maid slamming her ass down on Lyonel's cock as they screamed each others names out, and he impregnated her.

And he did impregnate the maid that day. When Arya came back to their room, she slept on the bed they were still fucking in. They waited for her, and when finally she lied down to sleep, trying to ignore the violent bounces and rocking and screams of pleasure from the maid, Lyonel howled out like an animal, filling her womb.

She cried herself to sleep while they kissed, the maid thanking him for the babe in between the smooching. Lyonel had her jerk him off to the sound of her pathetically soft, yet unimaginably arousing sobs.

This happened for a month. Every day in Winterfell, he would fuck another woman, some cocksleeve maids he brought along from King's Landing, some he made her watch as he raped for the first time. She sat down in the corner chair and watched as he would rape weeping and whimpering maids, breaking them with a bastard in their cunts, and driving them to what she thought to be insanity, but was in truth reality, that the rapings were a kindness, and they all grew to love him and scorn her.

Maids she grew up with around her age, young and naive and hopeful, some built more slim than others, and maids who were older than her, who had once been motherly and kind and would sneak her food from the kitchens, and were built with more curves than their younger counterparts, all fucked her husband in front of her while laughing at her, taking bastards in their wombs she was meant to have as trueborns, and loving it. They knew just the right buttons to press, and called her Arya Horseface, and other things she was bullied with as a child growing up.

The times that made her truly cry were when Lyonel would insult her as well, bullying her with the same names and speaking of how she would never have a child with him, and how he knew she would sneak back to their room when he wasn't there to masturbate, shoving fingers into her wet cunt while she imagined he fucked her, when in reality he hadn't fucked her since their wedding day.

Some days would end with her on the bed as Lyonel fucked a maid from back south or some maid she knew and/or grew up with. Others he would sleep with Arya in her arms, kissing her lovingly and saying even more loving and sweet things, Arya not realizing he was torturing her with another lesson, as he was aware she could taste the women he kissed and fucked, forcing her to be reminded of his infidelity even as he made out with her.

Then, after the first month, he stopped altogether. He didn't fuck her, but he didn't fuck any other girls either. At nights he would kiss her and have her jerk him off, cumming on her tits or making her drink it before sliding his hand between her amazingly thick thighs and making her cum.

Then one night, it happened.

Arya's eyes showed her confusion when she saw her mother enter, fisting her clothes together at certain areas as she walked to Arya's bed, "Mother?" Her voice showed just as much confusion, and her eyes curiously searched her mother's figure. Why was she holding her clothes like that? What's she even doing here, in her and Lyonel's bedroom? Was she blushing?

She saw her mother Catelyn's look of despair when she realized what was going to happen, "Oh, Arya… my sweet daughter."

"What's happening, mother?" She turned to her husband, "Lyonel, what is this?" A sinking feeling filled her stomach as suspicions crept into her mind. But Lyonel promised again, she thought. He said that was a free month, and even though she was a dumb cunt for it she believed it. He wouldn't lie to her, would he? She had to believe him, she thought desperately. She loved him too much not to.

She refused to believe otherwise, right up until Lyonel said to Catelyn, "You know what to do," and Arya gasped with wide eyes as her mother opened her hands to let her clothes spill to the floor and reveal herself naked, her gorgeous body bare for all to see.

"I'm so sorry, Arya..." her mother said, too ashamed to face her and instead looking to Lyonel, who was naked just as she was, to his muscles and his proud cock rising like a pillar of flesh, hoping it would make it easier to fuck her beloved daughter's love and life right in front of her.

It did.

"No," Arya whimpered pathetically.

Catelyn closed her eyes even as she displayed her breasts to her master. "I'm so sorry..." she said, pushing her breasts out for him to fondle.

"No," said Arya again as Lyonel grabbed her mother, pulling a gasp from her, and leading her by her arms to the top of their marriage bed and laid her down on it, "No, you promised-"

"I lied," Lyonel grinned towards her as her wide eyes stared in shock and disbelief.

She shook her head repeating, "No… No... " as if she would wake up and realize it was nothing more than a nightmare, a product of her insecurity. When her back hit the wall, so too did reality hit her, and she sank to the floor as she realized the man she loved more than her own life was going to fuck her mother right in front of her eyes, and she dared to do naught but watch. Lyonel leant down and captured Catelyn's shapely cockpillow lips in sensual hunger, and the sound of smacking lips and smooching and wet disgusting exchange of saliva filled the room.

"Lyonel," Arya whimpered as she sank to her knees and her eyes levelled with the sight of their lips, Lyonel's dominating and Catelyn's submissive and, despite her vocal regret and despair, unfailingly eager. "My mother..."

He parted from her wet lips and glared at her, and Arya couldn't help but flinch at the disgust he held in her eyes, disgust of such a proud warrior whimpering and kneeling and begging (and soon to be weeping). No matter how out of turn Arya was in her life, thinking she was more than a rapepet for him, it was what gave her the adorable and amusing charm he'd come to love her for, even when he knew better, even when he knew that women had no fate more righteous than as breeding toys and rape victims. Not that it was the cause of his disgust, for his disgust was an act to hurt her, and hurting her excited him and aroused him like nothing else.

"Aye?" he asked as he fondled Arya's mum, her moans filling the background as a constant reminder of the hot and lewd, harsh truth, and as to shame her daughter whilst she conversed with her cheating husband. His hands ruthlessly squeezed Catelyn's amazing tits while he stared into Arya's pleading and hurt eyes unflinchingly, "What of it? She's an amazing fucktoy, and a far better breeder. I would've taken her as a wife, but now I'm going to have to wait until your father dies. Make no mistake, however, she will be my wife. Look at your mother's tits. Look how amazing. How fat and yet firm. I swear when your father dies, I'll make sure she's missing from the funeral. Know that when you can't find Catelyn there, she's riding my cock on her marriage bed, smiling with joy and having my baby."

Arya's heart dropped to her stomach as she knelt watching the love of her life fondle her mother, and his words struck her like a hammer, "Father..." She looked at Catelyn, "Mother."

Cat's eyes opened and she remembered this wasn't another session of riding her master and cheating on her husband, an activity she's grown addicted to, but also Arya's degradation. She moaned out in a mixture of dismay and pleasure, "Oh, Arya! I'm so sorry. I wish you didn't have to see this."

Arya's voice was thick with pathetic pleading and whimpering, "Mother… I love you."

"I love you too, sweet Arya," she said, and for a moment Arya was lost in her motherly expression of regret and wanted to embrace her, to be comforted by her loving mother, and Arya leaned forward in her kneeling position, before suddenly a wanton and shameful moan ripped its way past Catelyn's lips in a cruel wake-up call, pushing Arya back to the wall.

"Oooh!" That moan was a direct oxymoron to Catelyn's regrets, it was a moan of pleasure she shamefully though unapologetically let sound, and with cunning, Lyonel made use of it to ruin Arya's resolve, to remind her no matter how much her mother was regretful over her actions and no matter how much she was apologizing, she was still going to fuck the love of her life. "Please forgive me, Arya."

"Why are you doing this, mother?"

"I can't help myself," she said, panting as Lyonel grinned and leaned down to plant kisses on her neck, collarbone, and chest, and licking across the valley of her breasts before suckling the milk from her fat tits. Arya despaired, and her hand reached out for a second to stop him before his lips latch onto Catelyn's swollen nipple, and her hand fell back to her side to hang there in helplessness. Her mother was moaning almost frantically as her milk spilled into his mouth.

Arya thought about Eddard, and something resembling a cry left her lips, "What about Father? How can you do this to him? How can you do this to me?"

Her tit flopped out of his mouth and milk arced through the air as her breast bounced against her chest. Arya flinched with a gasp and tears welled in her eyes as her mother's milk spattered across her face. "Go on," said Lyonel as he leaned in close to Catelyn's face, his hands squeezing her titflesh all the while. "Tell her what you abandoned her father, your perfect husband's unconditional love for."

Catelyn shut her eyes in silence, knowing that looking into Lyonel's eyes would ruin her resolve and force the truth to spill past her lips, but they flung open suddenly when he clamped down on her titties hard and readied his cock against her drenched folds, words crying out uncontrollably, "You! I did it for you!"

With a plunge into her warm cunt, Lyonel moaned out in satisfaction as Catelyn screamed and convulsed, held down only by her tits, stomach flinching and limbs quivering, hands scratching at the bed wildly for purchase before gripping in place. Lyonel leaned down to meet her face, her panting breath wafting against him. "Tell that to your daughter," he said, not even meeting Arya's eyes, but rather grinning cruelly down at Catelyn and gesturing his head towards her as he began to thrust into her mother.

And Catelyn did. Her head fell to the side and her blue eyes met her daughter's misty, tear-welled grey ones. She moaned as she shook along with the bed from his pounding. The regret slowly left her every time his fat cock speared into her womb, and Lyonel dragged his tongue across her face, "I did it for your husband, Arya. I'm so sorry, but - Oh, Gods! - I love him! I love him more than I ever loved your father! He's so much stronger. So much more muscular. So much more handsome. He's better in every way! By the gods, his cock… You've felt it. You should know how it feels."

She understood. Gods, she understood. But as it has been said before, she had regained her sanity, and a woman is a creature unworthy of such a gift, as they have no idea how to make use of it, a point she made convincingly clear when she spoke her idiotic question, "But… Don't you love Father?"

Catelyn stared up into Lyonel's eyes before they began to make out again, and Arya held back from sobbing as she watched his hips move and his cock plunge into her mother, Catelyn's ass jiggling and her tits bouncing on her chest in waves. Arya whimpered in despair as she wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him down, and she almost seemed to ignore the question if not for her speech continuing, as absentmindedly as it could whilst being fucked and kissed, said kisses interrupting her talking occasionally, "Of course - *Smooch* - I do. But - *Smooch* - I love Lyonel - *Smooch* - more. He's better - *Smooch* - in every way. The way - *Smooch* - he rapes my womb - *Smooch* - only brings me joy. Knowing that - *Smooch* - my place as a rapedoll - *Smooch* - is realized. Gods, I love him - *Smooch* - more than I love your father. *Smooch* - Ned is nothing - *Smooch* - compared to him."

Lyonel laughed as he pulled away from her lips. "That's far from the whole truth, Cat."

"I… I love cheating on him. I love the thought of him working hard and reigning as a lord, earning everything he has in life, including me, and loving me and treating me like a goddess, only for me to be fucking someone else, someone better, behind his back. And I love fucking your husband Arya. There is such joy in cuckolding men and making cuckqueans out of women. Nothing is sweeter than doing so to my husband and daughter."

By the time she had finished her speech, Arya's tears spilled freely and soundlessly upon her cheeks, and no matter how mortifying and cruel her words were. Despite the lack of ill-will in her mother's voice, she would have taken the verbal abuse over the sound of their kissing as Catelyn finally lost all care for deigning her daughter the basic human right of attention, and kissed with her daughter's husband in front of her as he fucked her hard.

"Gods, you're beautiful," said Lyonel.

Catelyn blushed but never broke eye contact, instead staring lovingly into his eyes,"I love you..."

"I love you too."

Catelyn didn't give a care in the world to the sobbing in the room, instead giving out a cry of joy and moaning into Lyonel's mouth when he slammed his lips onto hers again. She made out with him like a lover would as they coupled roughly and carelessly, the sound of their flesh deliciously smacking together. He wrapped his arms behind her back and lifted her to fuck her in a kneeling position, bouncing her atop him as they kissed.

He only pulled away when a delightful thought occurred to him. He leaned into her ear and whispered, and she laughed breathlessly past the sound of her daughter's sobbing.

Arya noticed past her tears that Lyonel let Catelyn go to fall on her back, his womb-raper still inside her, and he turned her on her stomach before hugging her from behind and carrying her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and moaned as she slid down his length, filling her womb.

"What are you doing," Arya asked with wide, fearful eyes, before suddenly Lyonel and her mother were on their knees in front of her, and her mother pushed her back to sit with her back against the wall. Lyonel positioned her mother so that her huge, perfect, and firm tits were hanging in front of her eyes, and Arya realized what they were going to do. "Please!" she begged, "No!"

"OOOH!" Catelyn moaned when Lyonel's hips started and he thrust into her. She whispered huskly, "Oh, Lyonel! Don't stop! Fuck me, please!"

"Mother..." Arya whined.

Catelyn only then woke up from her fuck-drunk stupor. For so long she had been taken by her master and had her head filled with fantasies as she slowly forgot her daughter's presence. Such delicious fantasies. Fantasies of Arya training in the yard, fighting hard and winning spars, turning to find Lyonel's approving smile, only to see him sitting next to her mother with his hands on Catelyn's hips and their lips locked together. Then came images of them in the throne room, with Catelyn sitting on Lyonel's lap with his hand clamped down on her asscheek through her dress whilst Arya's forced to stand in the crowd among petty nobility, and he would fondle her while his subjects brought matters to their king. Arya would be standing shamed amidst the crowd that would whisper and snicker behind her back of how pathetic a queen she was that she would allow herself to be cowed and cuckqueaned so easily by her mother. Arya would then return to their bedchambers, her hand reaching to the door, only to freeze at the sound of Cat moaning his name and the bed creaking under the weight of their fucking.

Then she thought of her husband, and such delicious fantasies of cheating on him (there really was something amazing about cucking people). After Eddard walked into his lord's hall to find his naked and gorgeous wife riding Lyonel like a stud and was arrested by his own guards as the prince declared himself lord of Winterfell, he was in chains in his own dungeons, and she would come in wearing a cloak and holding a torch, and would reveal herself from under her hood.

She imagined Eddard's eyes lighting up with hope, that her loving wife had come to save her, and that the truth was that she was being raped (which of course she had been, but not in that moment), only for her to shuck the cloak off to reveal herself naked in the dark damp dungeon lit up only by the torch she placed on the wall, ignoring her husband's equally confused and surprised look at her suddenly naked form, and Lyonel would enter and seat himself as Cat, still ignoring her husband except for casting such delicious and cruel smiles and smirks his way implicatively, slowly and teasingly undid her hair to let the beautiful auburn cascade down her back. She would then straddle Lyonel's mighty cock in front of Eddard and ride herself exhausted, sweat running down her jiggling ass and her tits as they bounced. She would moan out Lyonel's name and treat him so lovingly as though he was her husband all along. Eddard would see her red hair disappear as she leaned down and kissed Lyonel, and their smacking lips would join the sound of her jiggling ass bouncing on his cock, glistened deliciously in the torchlight.

Cat had been so lost in her fantasies, but now she awoke as a different mother as she looked down at Arya. Arya didn't sob anymore, but wept quietly as her mother's perfect tits, so perfect they put hers to shame, bounced in front of her eyes lewdly, nipples occasionally brushing against her face and dripping more milk on her already breast-milk-spattered face.

Gods how pathetic a daughter. To believe she gave birth to this?

It wasn't shocking or surprising, no. Only disgusting. She deserved worse, of course. She was a woman, made for raping and being bred. But she owed the men of the world, Lyonel above all, to birth better children than this… this disgusting cuck of a daughter.

"Look at you," she whispered, voice flinching with every thrust. "Doing nothing about me fucking your husband. What sort of daughter did I raise? If you were going to be a pathetic slut with no self respect you might as well have acted like it and accepted your role as a Lady to be married off and violated by some lordling like your sister, not pretending to be a warrior. The only warrior you would be is one who would lose her first true fight, and have her armour torn off before being raped into her place in life. Lyonel spared you that, though. He didn't do it on front of a crowd. Thank him, Arya Stark. Thank him for that."

"Thank you..." her voice quivered.

Arya's eyes never met hers, only spilling tears quietly, though such a pathetic showing was to be expected.

This was a pretentious dumb bitch who thought herself a warrior of equal standing to a man, and who thought that training in the yard would prove such a thing, oblivious to true fighting and battle. An idiotic notion, as Catelyn understood better and better whilst Lyonel was teaching her with his rape of her womb. So of course when faced with a truly worthy opponent, in this case Lyonel daringly fucking her own mother in front of her, would she falter to her natural subservient state.

"The only fucking she deserves is a raping," said Lyonel with contempt in his voice. "Consensual sex is too good for someone so pathetic."

Catelyn's love of Lyonel won over her love for Arya, and she laughed as she remembered the words he whispered in her ears. "Suckle my breasts, Arya."

She gasped shakily as her wide and wet doe eyes looked up to Cat's, begging for a reprieve in any form she could give. But her mother's eyes only stared lustful and half-lidded, smiling down at her as she gave the command.

"It is the only love you'll be given... my daughter." The word was spoken with such disgust, Lyonel almost considered it appropriate. The truth was, it wasn't disgusted enough. "Suckle me."

The Milf moaned when Arya's quivering lips latched onto her nipples and began to drink. Her puffy nubs wrinkled deliciously as Arya's lips took slow tugs, "Oh, gods! Look at you, Arya. Always thought yourself so strong, yet here you are. I'm fucking your husband and taking him away from you, and you're suckling my tits. You're going to make the woman who's taking your love away cum while she's doing it. She really is pathetic, isn't she?" She said to Lyonel before turning to smile down cruelly at her daughter. "Look at you drink… You should know, every day since your marriage, when he wasn't in your room and you touched yourself to the thought of him, he was fucking me. Today he's going to fuck a babe into me."

"I'm going to cum, Cat," said Lyonel, panting and grunting like a beast. Hearing him use her mother's first name so familiarly made Arya sob, vibrating the nipple in her mouth and making Cat moan.

"Me too. Give me your babe as I cum, my love." She looked down at Arya, her cruel smirk shaping in those warm and full lips, "Bite my nipple, Arya. Bite as hard as you can you pathetic cuckquean. Pinch my other nipple with your nails. I'm going to cum, imagining I'm breastfeeding my future daughter, a daughter of your husband's seed, more worthy than you ever will be."

Arya did, her sobbing vibrating in her throat before passing along to Cat's fat breast, and bit down on the fat nipple. It began to spill profusely, and she pinched down on the other teat's nipple with her sharp nails, squirting more milk on her face and in her eyes, causing her to flinch.

"You also need to know another thing, daughter of mine. Everytime I fucked Lyonel, he finished by cumming on Ned's gifts to me. The rings and necklaces he gave me, the love letters he sent me when our marriage was first starting. He drenched them all in cum. But I have nothing with me today, so you'll have to do as another gift to cover in cum and throw away. Now, make me cum, Arya! Make mummy cum as I take your husband's baby in my womb! Make mummy cum, you pathetic cuck! OH GODS ABOVE!"

Cat howled in pleasure, her mature voice calling out loudly, and Lyonel joined her with his own roar, his heavy grapefruit-sized balls contracting and jerking as his fat cock spewed bountiful amounts of cum into her womb. Arya's sobbing worsened all while she felt her mother's milk fill her mouth and cover her face, feeling also the teat she was biting down on tremble violently as Cat orgasmed. She heard the sloshing sounds of cum shooting out of Lyonel's cockhole into her mother's womb, before hearing it settle and begin to boil and churn.

After the tenth rope, Cat chuckled, "That should be more than enough to give me a baby." Lyonel pulled out and stood up, laying his heavy balls on her shoulder. Catelyn grabbed his length and aimed down at Arya's face as she looked up at them, crying and still sucking her mother's tits, before pulling her daughter's hair and forcing her mouth away from her sore nipples, pulling her face up to his cock before stroking languidly along his girthy length, pulling out seven more ropes and covering Arya's face in his seed.

Just as Cat had all jewelry and letters from Ned as gifts covered in cum and thrown away, the Tully slut threw her daughter away on the ground. "You can sleep on the floor tonight, sweet Arya. Facing the bed."

Lyonel laughed and decided out loud he liked Catelyn far better than Arya as wife, before walking over to his marriage bed along with her and laying her down on it again.

Arya tried to close her eyes and block out the sound, and as if the latter task wasn't impossible on its own, her mother called out, "Eyes open and looking forward."

She did as commanded, and even when she attempted pathetically to block everything out, the moans and grunting never left her ears, and as she lay there right next to the rocking bed, she saw constantly in the corner of her eyes Catelyn's thick legs, swinging back and forth in the air as Lyonel pounded in between them.


End file.
